


Ashes on Snow.

by Maroti



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, LITERALLY, Like he is, Romance, She's afraid of flame, Slow Burn, Small Kiran/Fjorm on the background, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2019-09-24 20:30:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 43,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17107616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maroti/pseuds/Maroti
Summary: Laegjarn died by the flames of Muspell to protect her dear sister. But something changed, Fjorm was not at her sides when the flame devored her whole, a Icy Blade took her place has the last opponent of the Sheathed Steel. Flame meet snow for the first and last time.Except that in the Order of Heroes, people can be offered a second chance, a chance at redemption and more importantly... A chance at life.





	1. Eye of the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings everyone for this kind of random work made because I love Laegjarn, Hrid and Fire Emblem Heroes in general, it's probably going to be a short story (like 5 or 6 chapters) but i'll see if I got inspiration for this thing later.

"Múspell, dragon of flame...I offer you my flesh. Arm and arm, leg and leg. My head, my heart... All of it offered, that you may feed. Devour me!"

The pain was already suffocating her, she could feel her entire body radiate power and heat. Her steaming body was stronger that it ever was, Laegjarn gritted her teeth and steeled herself for the last fight of her life. But this was not a terrible fate, if this last stand could save her sister then... Everything would be worth it. The flame and the pain, the fear at the fact that she could feel herself dying bit by bit. The first Princess of Muspell straddled herself on her wyvern, tighten her hand on her sword and flew right into the heat of battle. The Order of Heroes was already there, she knew that they were the one that had the slightest chance to save her dear sister and kill her madman of a father. End this conquest filled with sacrifice and suffering. End this endless cycle and death, flame and grief.

Her sword clashed with the sword of a man she recognised well, Hrid, the first Prince of Nifl would be her last opponent. She could not be more pleased, he was a proud man and a worthy opponent, one able to match her unbound fury with calculated and cold strikes. Each strike was accompanied by a bout of fire or a cloud of ice, steam rolled over the two of them, creating a spectacle of smoke and body. Each impact painting the savage painting of the end of a war. She had the upper hand, pushing the Prince on his last leg, but she was burning out. She could feel it, deep in her scarred bones and in her singed skin. Even when the rest of her allies when already gone, she did not stop, the Order did not interrupt this last dance, in awe at the spectacle of fire and ice. For the very first time in year, Laegjarn was feeling alive even in the absence of her Laevatein, she loved the fact that she could use her fury and pain to lash out against someone who will absolve her sins. Dying at the hand of the Prince of the kingdom she burned was... Was a good way to go out.  
She had little to no regret now, she would miss Laegjarn with all her heart but... As long as her sister survived this battle it was worth it.

Finally, almost pitifully, her body had enough. The broken princess began to cough blood and ashes as she began to fall out of her saddle. She looked at the bubbling magma under her and closed her eyes, it would be quick and painless. More than she deserved.  
Someone caught her hand before she could embrace her burning end and she could feel a strong pair of arms pulling her back up, putting her wrecked body against the hot ground. Confused, Laegjarn painfully moved her head to look at the horrified and worried face of her opponent. A pained smile creept her way to her charred lips.

"Death follow all those who offer themselves to the Flame, save your pity for someone else, it's the end for me."

The pain was even worse now, she could feel herself suffocate as her lung clogged with ashes, her heart was slowly being consumed by flame hotter than the shame she felt. She put her hand in the air, gasping for some painful breath as tears began to swell in her eyes.  
Someone took her hand, and first the first time in her life, she felt something cold soothe her burning soul. She closed her hand around the sensation, savoring it. Knowing that it was Hrid who took her, he always had been kind, like everyone in the Order of Heroes.

"Please, if you want to do something for me... save Laevatein, save my sister, she's all I have. Don't let my father take her too. Made her one of your own, she deserve to live... She..."

"We will, Laegjarn, I swear it on my honor as a prince."

His voice was surprisingly gentle, like the delicate lifeline that was his hand. She could hear the difficult breathing after their battle and she could feel something cold drip on her burning face, water who fizzled out of existence at the first contact with her... Was... Was he sobbing? Over someone like her. Over an enemy? Over the broken and burning body of the blood and flesh of the Tyran? Laevatein had been the only one to cry with her when her father burned people she knew for his flame, she remembered the small and confused child hugged her out of terror and their muffled cry covered by the scream of the dying.

"Prince Hrid... Don't cry over someone like me, but know that..."

Darkness overtook her as her eyes boiled, her body was a ocean of pain and yet... She managed to pull a charred hand up, brushing the face of the Prince of Snow. It was clumsy, a mess, and yet he accepted it. She lingered the touch for a single second that seemed to be an eternity before her arm finally went out, the last of her strengths used to whisper her last words.

"Your hands are... So cold... Thank you..."

 

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

 

 

Hrid took a long and shaky breath, flinching at the smell of the burned body and at the maelstrom of rage that made his way to his soul. He always had been the calmest of the already slow to anger royal family of Nilf, but this? The slow and terrible death of a proud warrior who fought for her sister until the bitter end? It was one more thing that Surtr will pay for, he will end his tyranny and avenge his Gunnthra... And Laegjarn. He took the royal vow to save her sister, and would respect it, it was the least he could do to honor her death. The prince sheathed his sword, calming his raging mind while touching the patch of burned skin on his cheek, wondering what the last words of the Muspell's Princess meant. Someone put a hand on his shoulder and he turned to look at Fjorm squeezing his shoulder in compassion, he nodded at his sister in silence, knowing that no words would be enough for now. She nodded back, a pained look in her eyes, before rejoining the rest of the Order of Heroes. Time was running short and he refused to lose another sister to this madman. The prince steeled himself, more eager than ever, and mounted on his horse one more time. He did not turn back to look at the desolate wreck that was the corpse of a princess he wished to have met in another time, and knew that the cold fury that waited to lash out in his hearth would be enough to bury the madman under an avalanche. They had a tyrant to slaughter. In the name of everything that was right, and everything that wasn't. In the name of peace and vengeance, he would be the one to snuff out Surtr' flame or die trying. 

He only needed to forget the heart-wrenching sensation of a dying and burning hand clutching his own. He would mourn what could have been after the fight, after the war.


	2. A cold aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So i'm on a roll! Second chapter let's go!

Surtr was dead.

It was simple like that, he was dead. The mad Tyrant of flame burned out under the relentless assaults of the combined might of Askr, Embla and Nilf? He scorched their land with war and despair but in the end... They won, the battle had been terrible but he himself managed to land the killing blow on that madman. The Order and the surviving member of the royal family of Nifl stayed in the kingdom of flame while the Embla's princess made her way back to their kingdom as soon as possible... It would take time before the shadow of war stopped looming above the citizens of both kingdoms but... They had a shoot at peace with the new crown ruler Laevatein. The whole situation left a bad taste in Hrid's mouth, even when their group stood behind to repair the damages made by the battle and began to create a trade road, he have felt the overwhelming sadness of the new queen. She passed the whole night after the fight unmoving, simply crying over her sister's death. It was only thanks to Princess Sharena and Fjorm help that the broken girl managed to move again. By luck, the people of Muspell were to ecstatic to really care about who was on the throne, because everyone could be a better ruler than the Mad King of Flame. He talked to her too, the night right after the battle, not as the ruler of the Kingdom of Nifl, but as a friend, as someone who was here when the most important person in her life died. Lavaetein begged, yes begged, him to describe her last moment. So he talked, he talked about how fierce she was in her last moment, how he had the impression to fight a burning flame of righteouness and courage, how her last moment at his sides were focused on her and the need to make sure that her sister lived and how, despite the pain, she died with a serene smile on her face.

He knew it was hurting her, but he was grieving too, the two royals talked hours about their deceased sisters. The way they changed their lives, he talked about how Gunnthra would be like a mother to all of them, about the joy of playing in the snow, the story read near the fireplace at night. He learned about the caring side of Laveatein, how they always trained together and shared the same bed at every occasion, the gentle smile that meant everything to her, the small and subtle gifts that defined when was her birthday. They talked all night long about their respective kingdoms, about their siblings, they cried together and he laughed alone. He did not pity her, she was way above pity, but after that sleepless night under the stars with her? He knew that he forged another bond, a strong one, one based on loss and friendship, one based in shared pain and hatred. They were not healed, far from it, but they began to soothe the pain together, as an act of friendship and kindness.

The order and the royal family stood a whole week behind, to help the people and Laveatein. To mend the wounds and repair what could be repaired, they did not take anything like any other conqueror would have done, they gave most of what they have to the kingdom of Muspell and, more importantly, they gave them peace. Something that the kingdom craved more than anything. But at the last moment before departure, Hrid had been stopped by the new queen Laveatein who gave her something far more precious than peace. She gave a plain urn filled with ashes, he already knew what to do with them, and he hugged his friend goodbye, not caring about what the people would say as two rulers embraced. Hrid did not look back at the castle filled with conflicted memories and feelings, focusing on the road before him, and on his own kingdom and family.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOO

Hrid and Ylgr looked at the Order going their way, on the road back to Askr. He focused on the back of her sister who made the choice to live the last years of her life as a member of the Order, protecting the weak across the worlds. He could not be prouder of her and yet... He could not deny the small amount of sadness he felt when he knew that she decided to walk her own path.

"Brother... You're staying with me, right? Please tell me you're not going to leave me behind too..."

"I'm not going anywhere, my cute little snowflake, but Fjorm made her choice and decided to stay with the Order, and we have to respect that choice."

"I know but... I still don't like it.

Hrid looked at his little sister and squeezed her hand in a show of support, they're finally back home again, near one of the numerous snow covered plain that made most of the sights in the kingdom. They made a detour near their home to do one last thing before going into all the post-war ceremony. A silent promise he made to a newfound friend.

"Say, what're you going to do with that urn?" Asked Ylgr, still clutching his hand with her own.

"I'm going to honor someone I would have liked to know before all of this. Someone worth forgiving and remembering. Someone who found strength in her kindness and made the choice to give everything for the one she love."

"Like big sister?"

"Like big sister."

Ylgr nodded meekly, sniffing while trying to appear strong, Hrid went on his knee and hugged her firmly with one arm. The last two royal siblings of Nifl knew that the worst was past them and, even if they lost much, they still had much more to live for. Hrid went up once more, opening the urn and dispersing the ashes in the cold winds. the ashes scattered in the cold indifference of the world, but under the focused gaze of a Prince and a Princess. Now, Laegjarn was away from the flame of her burning home and would fly across the cold blue sky of the place that could have been a place of peace.

There was ashes on snow. A cold and desolate painting, but a peaceful end to the raging furnace of life and kindness that was the woman he would have loved to know in person.

The duo passed some time in the cold silence, savoring the familiar sensation of the cold wind against their skin. Prince and Princess, brother and sister. Together. Until the end.

Unbeknown to them, something far from their reach decided that their story was worth telling, and something crystallized in the nest of one cute owl in the order of heroes. A pair of red orbs, one pulsing with warmth and the other cold like the winter winds. A story waiting to be told.


	3. Summonings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I always try my best to improve my writting, please don't hesitate to leave a comment on my work after reading it!

Peace was something that Kiran learned to cherish, it was strange, he never had real problems back home. He grew up somewhere calm, not perfect but clearly not the worst place on earth. His home has been filled with good and bad memories and he missed his family a little. The Summoner had been uncertain at first, of course, passing through a portal and waking up in a medieval kingdom filled with magic and greedy commander was a shock, but he managed to find his place within the Order and at the side of the myriad of heroes he summoned. His life was harder but it was more rewarding, here, he knew that he was making a difference in the grand scheme of thing. And... In hindsight, he preferred this risky but rewarding life of strife to his old and calm home. Here, he had dragons as friends, trained with people who fought in the grandest of war and debated with the sharpest mind in the realms. He battled the cursed bloodline of Embla (he needed to continue his search for a remedy soon, he could still feel the anguish of the rest of the Order when Bruno was near them) and saved a kingdom from the hand of a terrible madman. The Summoner felt a chill running down his spine, adventure or not, Surtr had been one scary man, he hoped that Breidablik (it took him day to pronounce the name of his weapon correctly) would not one day invoke him or it would be one awkward conversation. Well, the man was dead and the Order could finally return to their peaceful days of training, scouting the different portals and preparing teams of heroes in preparation for the next great crisis. 

The Tactician of the Order made his way into the halls, greetings the different heroes with a smile and dodging Felicia who stumbled on the carpet with a row of plates. After making sure that everything was alright, he made his way to the perch where Feh was resting peacefully, he petted the owl gently to wake her up and the cute little bird of prey nibbled at his finger playfully. The owl chirped before taking flight, disappearing through a window. Kiran didn't knew how or why the owl could bring him orb, but he did not complain, new orbs meant new heroes and new heroes meant better options for the coming battle. 

"Greetings Kiran, I hope that you slept well."

The Summoner turned his head and smiled as Fjorm joined him near the perch, he liked the Princess of Ice for many reasons, she had been critical in the final battle against Surtr and was always here to help during the meetings of the Order. They battled together enough time that he could feel this famous bond between them, she trusted him with her life and he trusted her with his. His good mood took a bad turn when he remembered that the days of his friend were counted, another terrible aftermath of the battle against Surtr, but he knew that she would prefer to live what little of her live she had helping others. He liked that in her, her drive to help those in need even after her kingdom was safe, her dedication to the Order and her kindness. In fact, he liked many things in her. Her precious icy eyes so often filled with care and attention, the way she tilted her head when surprised or curious, how her short hair seemed to sometime have a lone snowflake in them and how she would smile at him every time he took one out of her hair.

"Do... I have something on my face?" Asked the princess with a curious smile. 

Kiran blinked and put his hood up to mask his embarrassement, earning a small chuckle from the Princess.

"My night was alright, Fjorm, thank you for asking. Are you going to be there for the meetings later? Alphonse want to gather all the information we have on Loki and what could be her possible plan."

"Of course I'll be here, it's unfortunate that she escaped during the final battle but I'm sure we'll discover her endgame soon."

Fjorm's smile disappeared when she mentioned the battle and her eyes dulled a little, Kiran hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed to reassure her.

"Hey... I know you made a difficult choice, remember that I'm here if you want to talk about it. I'm not saying that I know what you're going through but if I can be of any help... I'm here, alright?"

Fjorm smiled and he smiled back, the two of them blushed a little before breaking eye contact. Kiran put his hand back down and found that the hall looked very interesting right now. He noticed Sharena observing them from afar with a mischevous smile on her face, elbowing Alphonse before pointing at the two of them, the Prince rolled his eyes at her antics and simply nodded in his direction like he was approving of something. There was nothing to approve here Alphonse, please continue your day and let Kiran wonder why he did not have a bigger hood to hide his face. 

A small hoot and the sound of flapping wings distracted the awkward duo as Feh made her way back on her perch, putting two red orbs into the outstretched hand of the Summoner. Kiran smiled at the bird before petting her on the head, gently ruffling the feathers of the owl with an affectionate gesture. He observed the two red orbs with curiosity, before shrugging.

"Thank you Feh, I'm going to summon them right now."

The owl hooted in excitation her made her way to Fjorm shoulder, the Princess of Ice smiled and petted the owl while Alphonse and Sharena made their way to the duo. The blonde Princess did not drop her mischevous smile, still looking between Kiran and Fjorm, but the Summoner rolled his eyes and smiled while putting the orb into Breidablik's slots, ignoring the grinning Princess.

"So, what do we have this time?" Asked Alphonse, choosing to focus on the summoning other than the antics of her sister. "Should we wait for Anna?"

"Nah, she says it's alright if she can catch up with the new heroes later, introduce herself in a proper manner and everything."

"Then what're you waiting for! Let's go!" Said Sherana with her usual cheer, summoning always put her in a great mood. 

Kiran focused his power into his weapon, the golden marking on his outfit and Breidablik lighting up as the two orbs were loaded into it. Lights began to form at the tip of the weapon (Kiran maintained that it was a gun, but he could not the word to explain it to the rest of the Order and he didn't like the fact that one of the most ancient weapon of a kingdom across space and time looked like a modern machine of death) and they grew in power, blinding all in the hall. Protected by his hood, the Summoner began to see two forms emerge from the cloud of smoke coiling around the summoned heroes.

He almost lost his grasp on Breidablik when two familiar faces looked around in confusion, he heard Fjorm gasp right next to him and the Summoner blinked in confusion. Hrid and Laegjarn stood in front of the Order, the Prince with a kind smile on his face directed at him and at his sister and the Princess with a confused frown as she looked at her hands, like she was trying to understand what was going on. 

Well, that just happened.

"In hindsight, someone go get Anna and call a meeting."

Feh hooted, looking proud of herself and terribly smug.


	4. First sights

The last thing Hrid remembered was the desolate painting of ashes on snow and the small hand of his sister in his own.

Now that he could see the smoke coiling around them in the hall of the Order, he first saw the Summoner and understood the situation. He had been summoned by his strange weapon and joined the Order of Heroes, Fjorm had explained the strange ritual during their march to Surtr's castle and theorized that he could maybe join them one day. He had laughed at this, saying that he would eagerly wait for that day , but he did not imagine that his summoning would cause such havoc. Well, it was not entirely true, he knew that the perplexed gaze he received were more directed at the person summoned with him.

He felt the urge to introduce himself to Kiran even when he already knew him. Perhaps another one of the strange effect of the Summoning?

"I am Laegjarn..."/"I am Hrid..."

Off to a great start.

He was... Uncertain about the situation. He had a fair amount of respect for the General of Muspell, respect earned during their last battle and by her dying words. He... Did not know if he could easily forgive the fact that she spilled the blood of his family but he could understand what drove her. The Icy blade also understood that all could have been different between their kingdom without Surtr and the invasion, he was still a little baffled by the summoning and the whole situation but he allowed her to continue, relaxing himself a little. He could feel her barely restrained confusion at the whole situation and give her space.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

The last thing Laegjarn remembered was the cold sensation of a hand clutching her dying hand. But the pain was not here, it was missing, she didn't understood how nor why. Her thoughts were muffled, she could feel her head spinning in confusion as she looked around. The Summoner. Why was the Summoner here? The rest of the order was here too, looking surprised. She... She should be dead. She knew that, it was the only thing clear in her memory, she should be dead. Muspell's Flames should already have turned her body to ashes, so why was she alive? And where was her sister? Her mind sharpened at the thought, even if she felt something changed in her. She could feel something between Kiran and her, a bond?... No. A contract, she knew she was contracted, summoned by his strange weapon that could bend time and space. So... She had been summoned by the enemy. She... She could accept that, especially if that means that she could escape the clutches of death. Was Laevatein here too? What did happen after her battle? Was she alive?

She felt the urge to introduce herself to the Order, even with her mind racing with untold questions and even if she knew that they already knew her.

"I am Laegjarn..."/"I am Hrid..."

The general turned to look at the person next to her, only now she felt that she was not alone in the summoning. And the person in front of her confused her by his presence. Hrid? Why.... Him in particular? Why both of them at the same time? Her mind raced back at their last battle and the promise he made, he hoped for him that her sister was safe or... Or... What could she do? She quickly understood the limit imposed by her contract and instinctively knew that she could not harm another Heroes or the Summoner. This did not bother her as much that she expected, knowing that she was now their prisoner and another asset for their army, little changed from her previous life, except that now she... She was safe from her father's wrath but away from her dear sister. One breathtaking good for one nerve wrecking bad. Hrid opened his mouth but she cut him short, she had more pressing manners than all those questions.

"I will serve you, but I have one request: allow me to see Laevatein, my sister."

More than everything, she wanted to know if her sister was safe, or even better, here. Maybe she had been summoned like her by this strange weapon? Or at least she should be safe in Muspell, she had to be safe. They promised her, and Hrid pledged on his honor as a prince. So she had to be safe, right? Kiran spoke up, taking off his hood as a sign of peace, while Anna made her way to the rest of the Order.

"I know you're confused, Laegjarn, but I assure you that Laevatein is safe back in Muspell, now reigning as Queen Laevatein. But come, we have a lot to talk about with the two of you."

Laegjarn nodded, some of her worries gone, and began to follow the whispering Order in silence. Anna seemed to berate the Summoner who pointed at his weapon in incomprehension, meanwhile, Princess Fjorm made her way to her brother and hugged quickly hugged him. She felt a spike a jealousy easily crushed by her years of masking her emotions and tried to not think of her sister alone back in Muspell, she failed and bitterly regretted the fact that she could not ride her wyvern back to Muspell in the hour. Maybe she could send a message? No, it would only prompt her sister to rush here and... And if her dear sister was now the Queen she could not expect her to abandon her duty for her. She already knew that Laevatein would abandon all and rush back to her side, and refused to impose a choice so soon in her reign. She was alive now, she had time.

A small hoot caught her attention as a little owl made her way on her shoulder, turning her little fuzzy head and looking at her with bright, curious eyes. The bird of prey made herself comfortable on the black feathers of her shoulder pad and simply stood there, waiting for something. The General of Muspell frowned slightly, observing the adventurous bird with curiosity. The bird looked back and began to snuggle against her cheek. She blinked, the beginning of a smile making its way to her lips, and she carefully began to stroke the owl back, taking care no to hurt the owl with the claws of her gauntlet.

"Feh like you, I see! She's always so eager to introduce herself to the new heroes, like I am! even if we kind of know each others already."

Laegjarn stopped her petting session and looked at the blond and friendly Princess of Askr who decided to walk next to her.

"Indeed, I know little about the whole Summoning but I'm under the impression that my arrival here is... Unexpected."

"But not unwelcome!"

"That remain to be seen."

"Don't be such a downer, yes you surprised all of us and I'm pretty sure you have a lot a question but remember, you're among friends now. Me first!"

Friends? She did not expect to hear that word anytime soon, but looking at the brightly smiling princess in front of her... Maybe her situation was not so terrible. Maybe it never was and it had been the rush of her memory simply stressing her over the whole situation. it was not perfect, far from it. But compared to her life before that? It was way better. She would not have to fear the constant cruelty of her father, she would not hear the cries of the burned every night before falling to a nightmare filled sleep, maybe, just maybe, she could lull herself to believe that fate decided to give her a chance she did not deserve.

"I'll remember it."

They made their way to a small room decorated with the banners of Askr and Nifl, in the center of the room a large table covered by a map of the nearby kingdoms. Laegjarn moved to be right in front of the Order, who took place at the other end of the table. She was joined by Hrid who respectfully nodded to her, she nodded back, moving a little to make some place for the Prince. She knew that the two of them made a strange scene, standing side to side, but she understood why he joined her. He wanted her to understand that they're equal in their new position as heroes of the Order. She... Did not know how that made her feel, respect was always appreciated but... She did not take it for granted, especially when that respect came from the Prince of a kingdom she helped bring to ruin. Maybe she just imagined a respect he did not have for the one who killed and burned his people. Maybe she did not deserve respect coming from them. She accepted that, it was what she deserved.

 

Anna pulled out of her thought when she slapped open a big and dusty tome on the table, catching everyone's attention and scaring away the little owl.

"So! The good new is that we didn't kidnap the new ruler of Nifl, if I understood what's written here you two are another Laegjarn and Hrid coming from across different realms. The two of you, what's your last memory?"

"Me burning as the flame of Muspell devored me whole and..." Her traitorous eyes made their way to the Hrid, and for one single instant she wondered if his hands were as cold as she remembered. "And nothing."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Hrid winced as the Commander of Muspell made the temperature in the room drop with her morbid statement. A curious part of him wanted to know why she looked at him like that, maybe he appeared as a threat to her. He did not want to but... it would be a lie to not say that his instinct still struggled with the fact that someone sporting the colors of Surtr was not an enemy. And he spied her glare to him, he knew that she was not plotting something bad, but he could still feel the cold distance between the two of them. Which was a shame but... He did not know how she would take the fact that he had been the one to scatter her ashes, how she would take it and... No, now was not the time. Not when she was still uncertain and not in front of everyone. He was sure that Fjorm would understand.

"I was walking back to Nifl after saying goodbye to Fjorm, and here I am."

He would tell her, in time. When he felt he earned the right to tell her. When he felt than they were not strangers with a strange respect for one another.


	5. Memories of home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all had a great time during the holiday! I sure did (with a present that begin with S and end by witch) so my update schedule may be slower for some days because i'll try to unlock my main on smash.

After the rather awkward meeting, Laegjarn and Hrid were given a rapid tour of the castle by Sharena and the Summoner, Prince Alphonse and Commander Anna stood behind to discuss the whole affair. The Princess knew that Muspell's castle was a ruin, with entire wings gone in flames in a bout of anger from her father, with pools of magma spreading from the throne room, but even so she was surprised by how... Simple was the castle of the Order. The whole building was down to earth, practical for the exception of the multiple room scattered across the building. It was logical in retrospect, many heroes wanted their privacy respected. She knew that the group looked at her when she said that she never had a room to herself before, but it did not bother her. She always had been on campaign or sleeping with Laevatein, it was simply how she did it. The Summoner was greeted by a lot of people, some simple foot soldiers (was it a pot on the head of this boy? Unpractical.), some radiating an aura of strength or prestige and some... Well, chilling was the term she could use to describe them, especially one white haired girl who seemed to look down upon all of them, she was pretty sure she heard the term 'worms' throw around. Other than the peculiar inhabitants of the castle, she had to admit that the place was rather nice. She could already smell a delicious scent coming from the kitchen across the great dining hall and a lot of heroes gave their little touch of something somewhere. The training grounds were acceptable, it was not the grueling arena like back home, but she had to remind herself that loosing a match here did not mean death. She stayed silent during the whole visit, only nodding or giving short answers when a question was directed her way.

To her, the most important place of the castle right now was the stables, as the Summoner informed her that her mount have been summoned too. Her interest peaked at the words, as she knew that her wyvern was capable of doing terrible damage if left unchecked. She said so to the Summoner, who simply shrugged and tell her that the tour was over and she could do as she pleased now. She took leave of the group and began to march straight to the stable, Laegjarn blinked when she felt someone followed her and she turned to see the Prince of Nifl right on her trails.  
She looked gravely at the prince. Was he still a prince when the real Hrid was still in Nifl? She wasn't sure, nonetheless he was still a prince in her eyes.

"Can I help you?"

She must have been harsher than intended as he put his hands in the air, he looked like he wanted to say something and searched his words before saying:

"Peace, Laegjarn, I'm going to check on my mount like you do."

She nodded silently, silently cursing herself for her tone. She needed to remember that she was not in Muspell anymore, that she could maybe, just maybe, began to lower her guard a little. Not too much, because she learned that the smallest sign of weakness could be enough to change everything. Not in a bad way, but she didn't wanted to appear weak, not here, especially not before him. She didn't knew why him specifically, maybe it was because he had been the last person she saw before her death? No... He... He had cried for her. She remembered that, she still didn't know how to process it. How can an enemy cry for their opponent? Especially her, she did not deserve his sadness and refused to be pitied. Or was it really pity?  
She didn't knew, she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

Laegjarn turned back without a word, going to the wyvern aisle of the stable as the prince went the other way to check on his horse. Of course, the different mounts were separated to avoid any kind of stampede or accident. By chance, she didn't meet any other Heroes on her way, she wanted some time alone. After a small search, she finally found the place where her wyvern was.  
The black wyvern was a magnificent beast, with scales darker than the blackest of coal and harder than steel, his red and fiery eyes and went to her mistress and the beast made an adorable noise of content before making his way to his mistress. Laegjarn opened the stable's door and joined her mount. Maelstrom was his name, she remembered finding the egg as a little girl and tending to the beast during her horrible childhood. He had been the only one with Laevatein to follow her during all her life, and she was so glad to finaly found something she understood in this whole mess. She caught the immense head of her wyvern with attention as he put his face on her armor and the princess simply hugged one of the most important things in her life. She stood there in silence, simply stroking the head of the beast with care, savoring the familiar and gentle heat seeping from the wyvern.

He felt like home, but not in a bad way, he was the comfortable heat of a body in contrary to the raging inferno of death. She murmured sweet nothing to him as he sat down and she slumped against him, he covered her with his black coal wings, and began to nuzzle against her. She laughed as he whimpered, but she didn't understand why he was looking sad and alarmed. Laegjarn felt something roll down her cheek and she put a hesitant hand to her eyes, taking off her gauntlets beforehand, with surprise she discovered that... She was crying.

"I died out there, Mael and... I don't know what i'm going to do now."

She hugged her knee as the dam broke, finally alone with a sweet reminder of home, the years of abuse and fear finally caught up to her. The shame of leaving Laevatein behind melded with the joy of knowing she was alive and out of Surtr's grasp forever. She lost everything and didn't understand why she was alive now, alive and away from everything she knew. Even bound by a contract she knew that she was more free here than she ever been in her entire life and she hated that. She hated Surtr for what he did to her, to them, to the kingdom. Bitterly, she sobbed against the injustice of all and how the only time she felt truly whole was during her dying moment. She wanted her sister, the source of her strength during all these years and more importantly, the only person that could see her weakness. Laveatein had been her sole confident during the harsher time, she was her only lifeline of humanity like she had been for her, and without her dear sister now? She felt so, so little and lost.  
And she hated that.

She hated her lonely weakness, she hugged herself tighter and Maelstrom nuzzled closer to her, providing her warmth and protection with his soft, rhythmic breathing, bitter tears continued to roll down her cheek in muffled silence. She felt so tired all of sudden, and decided to close her eyes for some time, shutting the world around her in the penumbra caused by the protective home made under Maelstrom's leathery wings.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Hrid made his way to his stable lost in thought, thinking on how to approach the whole bag of mixed feelings that the General of Muspell was. Their last conversation did not end well for him, and he knew he needed some time alone to think about the whole situation. In the worst case, he knew that he could find advice with his sister who had been with the Order way longer than him, but for now nothing so drastic was necessary. The Prince counted the stable before arriving to his one, and he made his way inside. Greeted by a proud and lovely mare with a snow white coat, Hrid smiled as Neige made her way to him, the prince stroked the sky blue mane of his horse with attention, smiling as his companion followed him across the Summoning. He loved her dearly, even more now that she was one of the strongest memories he had of Gunnthra. He could still see himself, a eager prince, trying to follow in her sister's footstep and be a proud knight of Nifl with the younger and more wild Neige. His older sister had been the one to teach him how to ride with care and attention for the horse, as a bond of trust rather than one of command.

And now she was gone. Devoured by the madness of a madman.

"Shh, it's alright girl. It's alright." Said the prince with a gentle voice, taking the necessary brush to tend to his horse, it always helped him clear his mind and he knew that Neige loved the attention. "I'm just a little lost, like we're all allowed to be from time to time." He smiled softly, continuing to stroke his horse in a repetitive and soothing movement. "I mean, the war is over, i'm... technically free from my duty as a prince and yet i'm more bound than ever. Strange isn't it?" Neige shook her head as he continued to brush her. "And there Laegjarn too, I really don't know how to feel about her being summoned with me." He began to braid her mane, like he did with Fjorm and Yglr when they were little. "I still want to know what she meant when she hold my hand after... After everything. I hope that we can be allies... Friend, even, if she allows me but... In the mean time I don't know how to say it. And I've been trained to handle diplomatic disaster like this one. Maybe I.... Maybe I should not treat this as a diplomatic thing, perhaps? But she deserved to know that she has my deepest respect. She was just like Gunnthra, fighting for those she loved and... And even if it does not forgive what she did... It help me understand. You know what I mean?"

Neige only brushed against him, almost making him stumble, and he smiled a little.

"You're right girl, i'm over thinking all of this, I'll simply go talk to her. Thank you for listening my friend." Neige simply neighed and tried to find something to eat on him, he petted her a little more before exiting the stable, surprised by all the time he passed with her. He shrugged, his first meal in the Order would be served soon enough, but he wanted to check on Laegjarn first, maybe they could talk on their way back? Yes, talking seemed good.

Hrid made his way to the Wyvern section of the stable, admiring the row of powerful beast and the colorful bunch that was their master. He found the wyvern he searched for a little later, recognising the pitch black coat of the wyvern folded around itself. He looked for its mistress without success when the fierce beast moved its head and looked straight at him with its ruby eyes. He felt the nasty glare of recognition and menace coming from it and he instinctively put a hand on the handle of his sword. The mind of the prince racing back to the many confrontations he had with the pitch black wyvern of Muspell, and this beast in particular. The beast did not move, like a coiled snake, and continued to glare daggers at him with folded wings, he understood the message clearly and began to move away from the stable when he saw a hand catch the attention of the wyvern from inside its coil.

He saw Laegjarn slowly rose up as her wyvern growled menacingly, he did not falter and simply waited for her to say something. Or at least turn around to look at him properly, she did nothing of the sort and he found himself in the awkward situation where he was faced by an angry wyvern only held back by the hand of one of his old enemies. He could back up right now, he knew that but... This would make everything worse. Well, no time unlike the present, he put a confidant smile on his face and adopted a more relaxed stance before saying:

"What's his name?"

No answer. Only the rising sound of the deep growl coming from the beast, Hrid sighed silently. He had tried, but to no avails, he didn't know what he expected, this was discouraging but expected after all.

"Nevermind I..."

"His name is Maelstrom."

Hrid almost didn't heard the small whisper coming from the Princess who still didn't looked at him, he smiled slightly, looking at the beast again.  
His mind flashed back to their last fight, at how he faced the rising tide of power and fire that Laegjarn had been, fierce and relentless, how he almost had been swept away by her power, her might, her strength. Like a burning star of war had been raised on his path, how they battled each other to the bitter end, how he still felt his own blood boil during this battle. Even more than Surtr, she had been the one to give him the greatest fight of his life, the greatest challenge. Against her, he felt like a warrior battle a dragon shrouded in fire.  
And when the dust settled, and that the dragon was within reach, he understood that no one in this battle had been a monster.  
She had been a real tornado a power, an magnificent inferno of strength.  
He smiled a little more, looking at the duo with kindness.

"It's the perfect name."


	6. Heat of the battle

The first week in the Order had been the strangest time Laegjarn had ever experienced. She met a plethora of strange and colorful character, from the stern Beruka that used the stable next to her (she appreciated her, she was down to earth, effective and a good soldier) to the more exuberant one (this Narcian fellow was insufferable, man pretentious like him would not have lasted a day back in Muspell). The Order was mostly friendly, with most of the Heroes being friendly at best, not as much as Sharena though, or simply rude at worst. The case of Sharena still intrigued her a lot, as the Princess was too... Friendly. It still unease her, friendliness in Muspell was rare, more often than not a false prompt used to trick those in need. And yet... She felt that the princess was genuine in her action and offering, a friendly talk from time to time, how she sat down next to her in the dining hall and tried to befriend Maelstrom with some snacks and sweets. She slowly began to be warmer toward the bubbly princess, often accompanied by someone she mistook as another sibling of the Askr family, Lissa. The pair of cheerful princesses was almost too much from time to time, but that was because their friendliness was something the was not expecting. But even with most of the heroes friendly toward her she preferred to be left alone most of the time, not unhealthy so, but still enough to be considered a discreet newcomer to most of the more boisterous heroes of the Order.

The fact that the royal siblings of Nifl were the opposite of her, often seen talking and laughing with the other heroes did not help. She was still feeling... Uneasy toward them, especially Hrid and how he almost caught her during her weakest time not long ago. She cursed silently at the memory and at how she still did not know how to approach this whole mess, she was still unsure on how she should be with him. She wanted... To reach out, maybe? He deserved her respect, and few people deserved that, in fact respect was a good start. But with him it felt that... it was not enough. Not when he cried for his dying enemy, not when he talked to her with such... Softness. She knew he respected her back, or at least she hoped so, but respect and forgiveness were two different things. The General knew that Hrid did not forgive the one who lead the charge on his own land, who spilled the blood of the inhabitants of Nifl. She did not resent him for that, it was alright, she did not forgive herself after all. How could she? War has dulled her mind and her heart, but now that everything was over?

...  
Now that everything was over... She knew that she did not act to protect her dear sister but... Because she was afraid, so terribly afraid of her father, of the flame, of the scream of the dyings. She latched on Laevatein and Laevatein latched on her because they were terrified of death, she bite down her lips down and clenched her fists. She twisted her own fear into protectiveness for her sister, and maybe it was this that allowed her to not break until the very end. But she had chosen to kill rather to be killed, she had been without mercy because she knew that her father would do the same. Laevatein had been the only thing to keep her sane her... Her only reason to live and to died, a life without her was no life at all. So when all crumbled to ashes she chooses to inflict a fate worse than death upon the dearest person in her life. Loneliness. Because a noble death was more than she deserved, and because she had been scared when Laevatein screamed for her life.

Now without her sister, without her troops, without marks, she could feel everything crumble.

Laegjarn took a deep breath and cracked her neck. No, she needed to get an hold on herself, this was unworthy of her and unworthy of a General of Muspell, unworthy of a hero of the Order. She needed something to clear her mind and some training will do the trick, like it always did. Her trusty Niu at her side, the proud warrior made her way to the training ground. There, she found an unfortunate dummy and began to tear him apart with cold precision. It was a meticulous work, with calculated bouts of anger turned into devastating strike. The reinforced dummy continued to take this brunt treatment for some time before a strike accompanied by the now flaming sword cleaved him in two, sending burning straw flying everywhere. laegjarn looked at the flame on her sword and winced, quickly calming her mind as she knew that her emotions were what fueled Niu. The sword had been a blessing and a curse, it was an effective tool, one given by her father, but she lost count of the time she burned herself with it. Now? Now it was only a grim reminder of her origins.

"You look like you could use a sparring partner."

Laegjarn knew that voice by now. She dreaded that voice.  
The princess turned her head to look at the smiling prince, he was the perfect image of someone who tried their best to be friendly, and she appreciated that but... Seeing him smile like that? It contrasted sharply with the admirable foe that tried to attack Surtr alone and managed to run away in one piece, thwarting most of the ambushes put in his way. He was, without the shadow of a doubt, the best swordsman of Nifl. He would do perfectly.

"If you would."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Hrid was feeling... A little overwhelmed since his arrival here. Oh, the rest of the Heroes were great people... For the most part! But still, Alphonse told him that it was normal, than most of the heroes needed a time to adapt to their new lives and find their place in the Order, that was why Sharena always made sure to be as friendly as possible to the new heroes who needed more time. He saw Fjorm everyday and they talked about everything, mostly remembering the good times or talking about the other heroes he meet. He found a kindred spirit in the other Lords but with Chrom and Corrin in particular. Life was different, but it was great, there was one little thing that bothered him.  
Well, two things, Laegjarn being the first one. The second being the obvious attraction between Fjord and Kiran.

He knew that it should not bother him, and he will not call them on that, not when the two of them dared not to make a move on the other. No, Fjorm was old enough to make her own mind about who she liked or not, but... He still feel a small twist of bitterness knowing that perhaps, just perhaps, Kiran had been the one to push his sister to go with the Order. He remembered clearly how Ylgr reacted when she heard that another one of her siblings would go away. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed... No, Fjorm had the right to choose how to live the small amount of life she had herself. Big brother instinct or not. And Kiran was a great person, a caring commander and a kind man. He knew that the Summoner could make his sister happy, but still, the whole affair added another layer of stress on his tired shoulders.

He needed to clear his mind, and without the calm plains of snow to look at... Maybe he should just move a little? Some training will do him good, especially since everyone in the Order was so good, he could not afford the stay behind. Gjöll at his side, the Icy Blade made his way to the training ground, not surprised to hear the sound of a sword hitting on a dummy, the place was a favorite of a lot of heroes and was rarely unoccupied. When entering the small interior court used by the swordsman of the Order the Prince raised a curious eyebrow when he saw who was here. He looked at her a little longer than necessary, marveling at how effective she was with that flaming sword of her, even without Maelstrom.

It was perfect, they're two proud warriors and he needed something more fierce than a dummy. He made his way to the General, smiling and announcing himself with friendliness.

"You look like you could use a sparring partner."

In fact, she looked like she was in dire use of something more dangerous than a dummy, his smile did not falter when she looked at him with her fiery red eyes that seemed to harshly judge him.

"If you would."

His smiled widened a little when she accepted, especially since her silence made him believe that she was about to refuse.

"It would be my pleasure, Laegjarn."

Something unidentifiable passed on her face before they began to move in the middle of the training ground. Hrid unsheathed Gnöll smoothly, the air around the blade shimmering with barely restrained cold, and he put his guard up. His icy blue eyes focused on his opponent. Laegjarn twirled her sword as flames began to appear on the blade and on her coat, making the air shiver with raging heat. The two could feel that they're holding back, the scale of their last battle in mind. There was a moment of floating, of nothingness, before the Princess closed the distance between them. Swords clashed for another time, the battle already gaining in speed and intensity within the first few seconds. They twisted, parried, countered, baited, their deadly dance flowing into one another. Laegjarn was still the perfect example of an overwhelming offense, her strikes were powerful and she used her vicious claw to strike under the guard of her opponent. Trying to knock the Prince back to give weight to her offense. On the other end of the spectrum, Laegjarn was the unmovable object to her unstoppable force, every powerful strike was met with a calculated parry, every attack was dodged or stopped clear by the strong defense of the warrior. Her speed did not allow him to counterattack effectively, not without overextending and risking a game ending retaliation. Steam began to twirled around them, like the last time, and the assault became more vicious, like the reminiscence of their last fight was enough to make their blood boil.

The fight was quickly becoming a test of endurance, who would make the first mistake necessary for the other to take the win? Great flames scorched the sand while cold ice began to twirl around them. Hrid was... Smiling, a confidant and excited smile reciprocated by the smile full of life and excitation of Laegjarn, they were equals, something clicked between them when they clashed. The training was soon forgotten when the need to win arose between the two of them. They knew that one mistake would be enough to end the battle but no mistakes were made. Their heart racing, some space was made when a kick from Laegjern pushed him away, he retaliated by grazing her headband with his sword, letting a small patch of ice taking hold on it. The two of them panted a little, guard and smile still up.

The familiar sight of a blue and white armor distracted him, and he saw the they were not alone in the training ground. Many heroes and the whole order were watching their fight, since when? He didn't know. What he knew was that Kiran and Fjorm were awfully close to each other, the Summoner whispers something in her ear with a blush, their hands grazed one another and he could swear that he saw his sister giggle with him. It should n...

His musing was interrupted when Laegjarn used his distraction to strike him fiercer than before, he was a little second too late to put his guard up and... The burning sword slammed into his shoulders with the momentum of a charging bull and pushed him back, he gritted his teeth, trying to stop the assault he knew was coming, but to no avail. A vicious strike to his torso was enough to cut his breathing short. he was then swept off his feet, literally. Laegjarn putting one foot behind his own and pushing him back with another series of powerful strike. He fell down hard and felt the radiating heat coming from the flaming sword right under his chin, Laegjarn had one foot on his cauldron to pin in down and...

She looked exactly like he remembered. Breathtaking and brighter than the sun.

He began to laugh, a clear and soothing sound as the steam around the two of them began to fade. He could hear clapping and cheering around them and Laegjarn blinking in confusion, only now seeing the other heroes around them. She sheathed her sword as the flame began to fade away. The Princess moved, still struggling to catch her breath, exactly like him, before holding out her hand to him. He gracefully took it, pushing himself up with her help. And the two of them look at each other like it was the first time they truly looked at each other since their arrival here. He smiled brightly to her, passing a hand into in now ashen hair before saying.

"Outstanding match, Laegjern, we shoud do this more often."

It was true, he wanted more of... Whatever that has been. But next time? He would only focus on her, like she deserved it, no more distraction, only their clashing swords.  
The heat of the battle still letting them red and breathless, he was hurt and he already knew that he would have to visit the infirmary as soon as possible. But in reality?

She smiled to him with a hint of eagerness.

"Yes... Yes. We should do that more often, Hrid."

This was worth all the pain in the world.


	7. Two kinds of Heat

Laegjarn woke up screaming.

She could still feel the lingering nightmare coiling around her skin as she bites down a panicked scream. The fire, the fire was still all around her, shallowing her. She could still sense her blistering skin and nearly choked as bile rose up down her throat. Inflicting further flashback of internal burning. The Flame of Muspell had been... A torture, it was not the first time that she woke up in the middle of the night with vivid scenery of fire devouring everything. Reliving the terrible time of her slow and agonizing death but sometimes it was... Worse. It could be someone else burning before her and she would cry when the tortured screams of Laevatein stopped, replaced by the mad laughter of her father. The aftermath was worse, with her entire body panicked, every senses overwhelmed by a wave of fear. The Princess took some difficult breath, wrapping herself in her blanket, her mood worsening as she remembered that her dear sister was not here with her. Nightmares have always been a constant before, hell, it was not the first time she dreamed of being fuel for the great fire but... She never had been alone in her night, Laevatein always had been there like she had been for her. During the Nifl campaign, a single glare at her sleeping sister was enough to remind her of what she was fighting for and why all the nightmares were worth it.

Now? She felt a bitter sense of frustration as her weakness and the fact that she had trouble moving on... Because her nightmares didn't wait for her, they shifted, always evolving to become more twisted and more grounded in the present. Tonight had been... Different. Oh, she still burned in the end, but it was not Laevatein who was turned to ashes before her, no, it has been... Hrid. His kind blue eyes torned apart in pain and horror, his gentle voice nothing more than a delirious scream of agony mixed with the sound of the raging inferno. She tried to reach out, to save him, to no avail, he burned and she had been the next. Sleep would not come tonight, she already knew that, but she needed to move a little. Laegjarn looked at the armor carefully displayed and shivered, putting on what had been one of her precious possesions was now an arduous task, one she took every morning nonetheless, but she refused to put on the damned armor after such vivid dreams, it was begging for more trouble. She wrapped a heavy coat around her shoulders and closed it around her night attire. Who was something long, practical and boring, but it protected her for the chilliness of the place. With no real goal in mind, she began to wander the castle, trying to forget the burning screams lingering in her mind.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Guard duty was a blessing for someone with an heavy mind.

Hrid looked at the calm landscape before him, not bothered by the cold of the night the Prince simply contemplated the flickering lights coming from the town nearby and the peaceful stars. Sometime, the sound of laughters would erupt from somewhere in the castle, probably coming from the heavy drinkers of the Order simply talking about tales of war in the garden. He... Enjoyed those times, alone in the night, where nothing was expected of anyone, he just needed to stand there and look at the horizon. He would sometime hummed a song of Nilf to keep him company, sweetly reminiscing about home. Hrid wondered if they could make a trip to Nifl in the future, even if he wasn't really royalty anymore he missed his homeland and he wanted to see if the reparations were going well. In fact... He would have liked to see his land in peace one more time, just for his own good.

The Prince missed his home, the snow, the Aurora Borealis, the cold. The Order was nice and everything, but... Homesickness was a feeling that everyone experienced, even Heroes. But Hrid made peace with that, his live was promised to fight the good fight. There was another Hrid back home, on the throne, and he knew that he would do a fantastic job at leading the country. He wondered if this Hrid missed Fjorm... No, never mind, those kind of confusing thoughts lead nowhere, he preferred to focus on the present and the fact that Fjorm was with him here. Sure, she spent most of the time with Kiran and the Order, and it was expected of her he didn't mind! But she made sure to have time for him and he appreciated that, they often talked about home and their family... And another subject was often brought by them, Laegjarn and their history with her. Hrid... Had little to no problems with the General of Muspell, she wasn't a friend yet but... She was not a stranger anymore.  
She was also capable of inflicting bruises bigger than his hands, so he liked her as a friend.

A polite greeting interrupted his musing as a smiling Stahl announced him that he could go to sleep, the Prince nodded and wished a good guard at the Shepard before heading down the rampart with a small sense of... Bittersweet sadness perhaps? He was just feeling homesick and needed something to cheer him up, and the Prince knew exactly what he needed, something to remind him of home and the good time he had with his family. Hrid was making his way to the kitchen when something caught his eyes, something was seated at the small table used by the maids and the kitchen staff.

"Laegjarn?"

She was eating some dry fruits with her eyes lost in a corner of the room, the princess looked... Terrible, really. The General looked at him like a deer who just saw the hunter hidden in the bushes, before sighing, her shoulders going limp as she nuzzled closer into her heavy coat. He took a seat before her, seeing her sleep ridden eyes not looking up to him, like she was ashamed, her usually carefully combed hair looked wilder than ever and he could easily see what polluted her nights. He experienced those sleepless nights too, less often now that the war was over, but... There was no escaping from them sometime, he just learned to cope with them with Fjorm in the morning; having someone to talk to was the best medicine for those kind of terrible things.

"Nightmares."

It was not a question, but she nodded nonetheless. Hrid looked at the tired woman in front of him and decided that Fjorm would understand why he helped himself with their chocolate. The night was still young, they had time before them and he... Genuinely wanted to help her.

"I still have nightmares of our war." Said the Prince, getting up and taking a bottle of milk, he verified if the beverage was still good before putting it in a pot and lighting a fire under. "And... We have something in Nifl to deal with them, I know that your sister is not there and that it can be hard but..." He searched for a specific drawer, one reserved for Fjorm and him, before taking out a small bag of dark powder, carefully pouring a calculated quantity in the boiling milk. "Have you heard of hot chocolate? It's our national drink and something to feel better on the sleepless nights, I just need some more time before it's ready."

There was a moment of silence, only distraught by the sound of boiling milk, longs minutes with nothing said between the two before he served the bowl of hot chocolate with a kind smile. Her eyes looked up at him, and he tried to understand what thoughts could hide behind such pained eyes.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Why was he so nice to her? Why was it him who saw her at her weakest point? She just got caught red handed stealing food, something that could get her executed back in Muspell and... He simply smiled and served her... Chocolate!? She never had chocolate, the luxurious thing was almost a legend back in Muspell simply because the ambient temperature melted it faster than snow. Laegjarn looked down at the steaming bowl, refusing it would be a greater insult than everything she could have said, so she looked at him for a long time, waiting for the catch, when he simply said nothing and took his own bowl, blowing on it to cool it off, she mimicked him before testing the hot drink.

It was delicious and... Warm, but not in the bad way of her nightmares, the aroma melded with the milk made for something unique she never tasted before and.... It reminded her that heat had not always been something to be afraid of, she savored the taste of chocolate and closed her eyes, relaxing a little. It... She could understand why the Niflian loved that drink, it was... Relaxing. Different from the burning alcohol they had back home, this was... Like feeling the familiar warmth of Laevatein near her, it reminded her of better times. Times when her sister was here with her, times when they escaped the madness of their father together.

"It's... Delicious. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

They stayed like this for a long time, simply drinking from their bowl in the now comfortable silence. Laegjarn looked at Hrid with a different look, and the prince laughed a little, she frowned not knowing why he was laughing before he pointed under his nose. The General did the same and wiped the chocolate of her mouth with a quick movement of her wrist, blushing lightly before smiling a little. She wondered why he was so... Nice with her. He could have turned away and let her be, and worse, reported her to the Order for helping herself with the food but... He opted to sit down with her and be here, even if he was not Laevatein she had to admit that... Having someone helped a lot. She looked down at her bowl, enjoying the warm sensation of the bowl in her palms before saying:

"In my nightmares... I relive my last moment, sometimes I can still feel... Everything. The fire, the pain and... I hate it, but I hated that way before our last battle. No... The worst part is that sometimes it's Laevatein who's burning before me and... My father is laughing..."

Sometime it was him.  
Because he was kind, because he was worth her respect, because he was always smiling and because she knew that he was doing his best to help her despite their history. Because they shared something that few could understand, he had been there during her last moments, not as an enemy but as a friend. This was priceless for her, and loosing that hesitant and blooming friendship was the root of her nightmares. Because she was afraid that Surtr would take him away from her, like he always did with everything she... She...

"Hey, it's alright now. He's not coming back, we won."

"I know... And I'm glad I can see the world free of this madman but... His image is still burned in my mind, and I know he's not going away... I'll have to live with it."

"We all have to."

She could see the same pain in his eyes, they had been hurt by the same monster. They fought the same battle on a different side of war, she knew that he understood what she was talking about, how this twisted madman and cut deeper than anyone had ever cut before, they understood more about each other with a single glare than with a thousand words, the two knew. They knew that healing was possible, even far away from home, they knew that they would heal with time... And with someone to help each other. The Prince and the Princess smiled sadly at each others, knowing that it would be a long and difficult road... But one they will walk together.

"Thank you, Hrid... Any chance you could teach me how to make hot chocolate?"

"It would be my pleasure, my friend."


	8. Those who follow their hearts

Hrid didn't know why he had been convoked by Kiran privately in his study, the Summoner simply sends Flora to his room to warn him and he obliged, simply curious and because it had been some time since his last conversation with the wielder of Breidablik. He had a... Slight idea of why he was asked to come alone but he preferred to leave those thoughts alone. There was a small chance that it was to ask something about sister but it was more likely to be information on the tactics he used when he fought Surtr alone after the initial invasion, or perhaps he simply wanted to talk as a friend? The Prince of Nifl smiled to himself as he approached the door of Kiran's office, yes, he was simply troubling himself over nothing.

Confident, the Prince knocked on the door and waited a little before Kiran allowed him to enter, the Summoner was nose deep into a heavy tome with... Nifl's emblem on it? Intrigued, Hrid frowned before Kiran closed the heavy book and smiled at him, he smiled back before taking the chair before him. The humble room was clean, as expected of the excellent work of the numerous maids present here, except for the desk who was in a state of 'organised chaos' as his owner putted it. Books were scattered everywhere, often with pages full of scribbles used as bookmarks. A lone cup of cold tea was abandoned in the sea of paper near Breidablik, and he could see that Kiran had already light up a small fire in the room as the sun began its descent. There was something... Agreeable here, like the friendliness of the person in front of him had been absorbed by the walls and the book, with his hood down, Kiran looked like... Everyone else. The hood always gave him a sort of mystique, with his unusual friendliness and his sharp mind. He was one of the more important people in the world, one who could yield the power of countless heroes and yet... He was humble and kind, a friend to all. Hrid smiled, looking back at the book before saying:

"I'm here, Kiran, what can I do for you?"

The mystique was promptly broken when Kiran looked awkward, there was no other word, Hrid frowned, a little perplexed by the fact that the cool and composed tactician seemed to search for his words. he could see Kiran's eyes going from the book to him and the Prince decided that something was a little off.

"I saw the book you're reading, is it about Nilf? I thought that my sister would have answered all your questions about my home long ago."

He said that with no bitterness or malevolence, because even if he was a little troubled by the proximity between Fjorm and Kiran the fact remained that Kiran didn't deserve any kind of ire coming from him.

"It's a book on the tradition of your kingdom..."

He opened the book at a random page, one covered in breathtaking snow sculptures coming from the annual ice sculpting competition, and the Icy Blade wondered if the winter here would be cold enough to allow such context back here. Hrid focused back on Kiran as he began to shuffle throughout the page.

"Well, you see in my world... There's no kingdoms anymore, well, almost. But the fact remains that many traditions were simply out of touch with the current era. Which was normal, I mean, I lived all my life without magic, dragons, princes and princesses and... Sometimes, just sometimes, I feel like i'm a little out of touch. It's why I always forgot that i'm surronded by royalty, I mean, a good quarter of the Order got royal or divine blood, and it's easy to forget."

"Which is one of your greatest strengths, being treated like a friend and not a prince is refreshing."

The Summoner put a hand through his hair, a small smile on his face and a light blush on his cheek.

"Thank you, I'm always a little afraid of putting my foot into my mouth and I decided that a quick brush up from time to time could be of use, especially now.

" "Is there something happening."

"Yes, in fact, there is something happening."

Put on edge, Hrid looked at his friend with more focus, he could see that he played with his hand, like he was bothered by something. The Summoner got up and began to walk to the window, looking at the outside like he was trying to avoid looking at him in the eyes.

"And you see in my world, in retrospect, everything was... Simpler. More practical and less set in stone, here, words and actions carry a weight absent in my homeworld,and that's why I... I wanted to see you."

The Summoner returned back the desk and turned the book for him to see. The opened page was talking about which gift someone could offer to a potential loved one. A romantic loved one. ... Hrid looked at the book, then back at Kiran who stood proud even with the fact that he seemed ready to bolt if he sneezed, then back to the book. He sighed, before closing said book.

"You want my blessing."

"Yes! Well I... I would like to have your blessing to... Hum... What's the term again... Court! To court your Fjorm because I..."

The prince got up and put a hand on Kiran's shoulder, looking at him straight in the eyes. To his credit, the Summoner didn't flinch and returned his heavy gaze.

"Fjorm is an adult and capable of her own decision, Kiran."

"I know."

"It's clear that there is something between the two you."

"I hope."

"And I appreciate the fact that you decided to talk to me before, especially when it's was not needed. I only have one question."

Hrid, the Icy blade, Hero of the Order and once Prince of Nifl smiled and clasped Kiran in the back.

"Why are still here!? Go make my little sister happy! The two of you deserve one another more than anything."

Kiran smiled at him and he returned the smile, the Summoner nodded, looking pumped up, before clasping him in the back too.

"Thank you Hrid, you're my friend and I wanted to make sure that everything was clear between us! Wish me luck!"

"You won't need it, Kiran. And you know it."

Kiran's smile brightened even more as he gave him the two fingers salute before bolting through the door, earning a small chuckle from the Prince. Yes, he still didn't like the fact that Fjorm choose the Order before her family but... Kiran was a good man, a friend, and someone who cared for his sister too. The fact that he took the time to ask his blessing, even unnecessary, before making a move was the proof of how much he cared for everyone. He wished them nothing but joy and he knew that it was exactly what they would get. Knowing that Fjorm was happy meant the world for him.  
That, and the fact that Kiran forgot that he would have to do everything once more with another Hrid back in Nilf.

The Prince sighed, the smile still lingering on his face, as he saw the book still on the desk with the emblem of Nilf, he took the heavy tome and his fingers traced the familiar sign.

"You deserve every second of happiness you can have, Fjorm." Said the prince to himself with a somber voice and a hint of sadness.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

When Laegjarn meets Hrid in the corridor, she wondered why he was looking so down and if the heavy book he carried with him was the cause of his sadness. The General was just returning from some errands ordained by Anna with another squad of wyverns riders and her evening was shaping to be another peaceful meal followed by the usual time when she would find a place quiet to think or train a little. If she was lucky she could maybe join one of the numerous groups of Heroes in their niglty game or conversation. But it seemed that today's evening would not be one of those evenings.

She stopped, looking at the Prince with a concerned gaze.

"Hrid? Are you unwell?"

"No, no I'm alright! Don't worry Laegjarn."

She looked at him with a suspicious glare and Hrid blinked, surprised. Before sighing lightly, showing her the book who seemed to be talking about his kingdom. Laegjarn understood the interest that many Heroes had with books, but... She didn't find them appealing. Mostly because of the fact that she hasen't had the opportunity to read many books during her life, Muspell's library had gone in flames a long time ago, burned by her father when she was little. The Princess knew how to read of course, and maybe she will pick a book and began to read now that she had time, but right now reading was on the bottom of her list.

"It's a book on the tradition of Nilf, Kiran was reading it because..."

"Because...?"

The prince looked troubled, maybe he was feeling homesick? She did not, she only missed and worried for Laevatein, the rest of the castle was often linked with bad memories or war. She was beginning to find her place here, even if she would have loved to have her sister with her. But the princess wondered why Kiran needed to learn about the traditions of another kingdom, maybe for a future trip?

"He wanted my blessing to court Fjorm, even if he didn't need my approval... In fact, I think he just wanted someone to give him the last push."

Oh.  
She could see why he was troubled now, she could understand. Hell, she would not know how to react if someone had tried to court Laevatein, but the General also knew that it was not the only thing troubling Hrid. The fact that Fjorm was condemned put an sword of Damocles on the happyness of the couple, they needed to cherish every second of their relationship because... Because no one knew how much time they had before the consequences of the war would come back to take their tolls.  
It was a love destined to end in tragedy. And the worst in all of that?

"Well... I'm happy for the both of them, they deserve happiness."

"I know."

It would end in tragedy because of her father, because of her.  
Sometime she felt that her nightmare followed her back in the real world.  
She needed something to change her mind, to forget the grim fate inflicted on a kind man and on a brave princess, in fact, Hrid looked like he needed the exact same thing.

"Come with me. I'll pay you back for the chocolate."

She ignored the feeble attempt to dismiss the invitation and began to make her way to the stable, Hrid followed, a little unsure and knowing that some company would do him great. The duo arrived at Maelstrom's box, the wyvern rider began to install the saddle on her mount. Hrid stood at a respectful distance of the wyvern, who continued to glare at the prince with a dangerous glint in his eyes. The beast bowed his head to let his mistress mount on his back and Laegjarn looked at Hrid with obvious impatience in her eyes.

"What're you waiting for? The sun is already setting and we're burning the best time for flying."

It was the end of the day, and the sun was setting... Everyone with a flying mount knew what it meant, it meant that it was the best time of the day to fly in peace. Before the fall of the night, when the sky became a sea of colors in its own right. She wanted Hrid to discover that, it was one of her favorite things to do when the pain became too much, or when Laevatein's absence began to overcome everything.  
It was her own hot chocolate, only with more beast of war and altitude.

"You... Want me to mount with you."

"... Yes. And don't worry, Maelstrom is a little cold as first, but he's much nicer once he accepts you. And he accepts who's coming with me."

"Alright... But I never flied before."

"No time like the present then, come on." Said Laegjarn, reaching out to the prince.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Hrid smiled, before grabbing her hand, hopping on the wyvern who made a loud rumble. He tried to be comfortable on the saddle, who was nothing like a horse saddle, Laegjarn attached him tightly as she moved to be in front of him, sat on the hard scale of the neck of Maelstrom. She stretched and her wyvern did the same with his wings before moving out of the box. With an agility unexpected for such a massive beast, the wyvern smoothly walked to the edge of rocky path who stopped right after the rampart. Several meters of void welcomed him as he looked down, he tried to grip the saddle with little effect, worry visible on his face.

"Hands on my waist."

"What?!"

"You heard me, if you continue to fumble like this you're going to bother Maelstrom and tire him out, so grab my waist and relax. He's more likely to bite you than me."

Hrid slowly reached before grabbing the armored waist of the General, noticing that the armor was warm to the touch. Or maybe it was her? Or maybe it was the creeping blush who made its way to his face.

"Can you warn me befo"

The rest of his sentence was drowned in the sound of rushing winds and the scream of the wyvern. He held back his own scream and closed his eyes during the fall before feeling the powerful wings of the beast taking flight, his body was racked uncomfortable sensations of falling before the flight stabilised, breathing heavily, the Prince opened his eyes to see the green hair of the General. During the fall, he clutched Laegjarn tighter than expected and... If he was honest with himself, he was a little too scared to let go of her.

But fear... Was replaced with wonder.

Before them, stretching out to the horizon, was an entire kingdom. Basked in the setting sun, pink cloud twirled around them like magical smoke, Maelstrom passed through them in peace, and the prince began to straighten himself, in awe at the spectacle before him. Forests and river were passing under them, he could spy people from up there, so small and distant. So real. Like the silence around them, like the familiar and welcomed sensation of cold winds melding with the warm presence of Laegjarn flying with him. He touched one of the clouds, letting his hand wander throughout the piece of sky, he heard people talking about flying but this... This was surreal. In the good way. This was the world before them, this was breathtaking, a myriad of color and sensation twirling around them. During this instant, Hrid forgot everything. He forgot the war, his homesickness, the tragic love between his sister and his friend. For the first time since his summoning Hrid allowed himself to be... Hrid. A curious boy who loved to wonder at the world.

Finally, Hrid opened his arms and screamed in delight, letting himself go where no one could hear him. The sky resonated with his scream of joy who sound found a partner, smiling, Laegjarn did the same motion and screamed at the heaven with the prince. The two of them in their own shared little world with cloud as their witness, they screamed in joy when Maelstrom pulverized clouds with the might of his wings. Excitation filled them when the beast began to twirl in the sky, roaring with them, nothing could touch them, nothing could stop them, the sky was their limit and they intended to go further beyond.

Hrid took the sight of everything and graved it in his mind, the color of the sky, the setting sun in the background, how warm Laegjarn was to the touch, her breathtaking smile, the way the wind played with her green locks, how the red of her eyes shined with joy and passion. How alive she felt at this moment, how he he felt at the same time, how everything seemed so minuscule up there and how she was brighter than everything around. A star of her own, one he was standing near, so near, that he could only bask in her warmth.

After a particulary nasty twirl, Hrid caught the waist of Laegjarn once more, his laugh almost getting out of hand before dying in a giggling fit. He caught the eyes of the wyvern rider as she laughed back, and by the great dragon Nifl he loved that sound, and idly wiped out some tears from his eyes. It was getting dark, their beautiful painting was slowly fading to black, but it was not a shame. Hrid... Was glad to have accepted her offer. Nothing was said between the two of them as the night sky began to overtkea them, Maelstrom did one last turn and began to head back to the castle in peace, the comfortable silence only broken by the sound of the wind.

Hrid continued to hold on Laegjarn during the rest of the trip.


	9. Interlude: A Cold Story

Kiran and Fjorm stood on the rampart, staring at the setting sun together, the small distance between them has been closed for good with an erratic and hesitant confession from the both of them. Now, their intertwined hands were the proof of a bonds shining brighter than everything they knew. Kiran held the woman he loved in his arms with delight, unbothered by the cold seeping out of her whole body, in fact, he began to welcome the gentle freezing caused by Fjorm's contact a long time ago. He hugged her tighter and the Princess nuzzled closer to each chest, trying to reduce the space between the both of them even if there was none, seeking his warmth. The two felt at peace, and eager to discover the path that had been open in their future, one of complicity, happiness and gentle touch. Both of them knew that this relationship was doomed to end when the tolls of war came back to take Fjorm life, but they did not care, they both decided to enjoy the time they had together. To be in love against everything, to live and share this story, to discover what their life would become. 

They loved each other, so very much, and for now? That was all that mattered.

Kiran softly kissed the top of Fjorm's head, not taking his eyes of the setting sun, nothing was said between the two of them because everything already has been said. Their comfortable silence was all they needed, that and the contact, the reassurance that it was not a dream, that it was real. The Summoner felt like it was yesterday that he met Anna and the Order for the first time, he still remembered his first time on the battlefield, his first summoning, the bonds he forged with each heroes and... How his life flourished since that unfortunate portal. Here, in the setting sun of a still strange but now familiar world, he found that he loved and was loved back, and this feeling was worth more than a thousand victories on the battlefield. This was worth fighting for, more than anything.

For the time being, he allowed himself to forget everything related to the turmoil caused by Surtr death. Even when they just received an answer from Queen Laevatein, a formal letter asking if the Order could come back to Muspell to inaugurate the first trading road between the two kingdoms, but he knew that there was another reason as why the new crowned queen wanted them to come. He personally wrote the letter informing her that her sister has been summoned and... This was one can of worms he didn't want to open right now. Who knows how the population would react when they saw the still living heir of Surtr with the group who killed their king, even if two whole months had passed since the end of the war the wounds were still fresh and raw. But on the other hand he could not deprive Laegjarn from coming back home, especially when he understood perfectly how she felt.

Kiran hugged his beloved tighter and Fjorm moved her head to look back at him, putting a cold hand on his cheek, the Summoner leaned into the touch with a serene face.

"You're worried about something."

"I'm worried about a lot of things, dear, but nothing worth interrupting this."

Fjorm blushed with a smile that sent chills down his spine, and he grabbed the hand of the princess before looking into her clear blue eyes.

"Because this, right here, is everything I ever wanted."

The blush on Fjorm cheeks became crimson red and she chuckled before shaking her head, they began to look at the sun once more, surprised to see a lone wyvern fly in the direction of the castle. The flying beast slowly approached the castle and the couple could see the strange duo that rode the wyvern. Kiran blinked in surprise, trying to see if he did not mistake the two riders from someone else.

"Is... That Laegjarn and my brother?" Asked Fjorm with a hint of confusion.

Yes, it was them, happier that he ever saw them. When would they be flying together, especially at this hour? There was no patrol and only the setting sun was worth seeing, with... Oh. Ooooooooh

"She's pulling a romantic flight on him, bold of her."

"A what!?"

"Nothing, nothing, something from a story back home called 'How to train your Dragon'. You know, I didn't get the chance to see the final chapter of the story."

"Maybe you could write the end yourself?"

There was a moment of silence where Kiran let Fjorm go, the Summoner gently grabbed the hands of the Fjorm and simply smiled. The Princess smiled sweetly and he smiled back, there was a spark of trust, of friendship, of love, of every little thing that could resonate between two people who loved each other, who went through hell and back and rose above, people who sworn a silent oath and created a bond bigger than time itself. The two of them kissed, it was hesitant and messy. Kiran was sure that he missed her deliciously cold lips by a large margin, but she rectified that for him. The two of them savoured the myriad of sensation going through their souls, and marvelled at the fact that this simple gesture was now their new everyday. They broke the kiss, panting and yearning for more.

Head to head, Kiran and Fjorm smiled brighter than ever.

"I'm already busy writing something else."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, who's excited for the beast units? I sure am!
> 
> Sorry if the time between chapters is on the rise, work came back with a vengeance. Still, this is a small interlude before we continue this story. Have a nice day!


	10. Way back home

Saying that Laegjarn was stressed was the understatement of the century.

She always apprehended her inevitable return home, how could she not? But now that they neared the borders of Muspell the Princess felt her dread came back with a vengeance. Hidden in a heavy black hooded coat to not reveal herself, the wyvern rider tried to calm her nerves for the umpteenth time while trying to be discreet to not alarm the rest of the marching heroes. She did not hate the Summoner, and she did not protest his decision to take her with the group back to Muspell. In fact, the man had been kind enough to make sure that it was fine with her before they began their trip, but that did not stop her traiterous thoughts from assaulting her. It has been a little less than two months since her summoning and she... She did not write to her sister. The doubt and the lack of meaning behind words always puts her on edge, she tried to write something but... It was never good enough, she could not resume her feelings, how unusual and strange her life had became and how... She missed her. Laevatein was a queen now, the Ruler of Muspell because... Because no one else of royal blood was here except her. She loved Laevatein more than anything in the world, more than herself, but her sister was not trained to be a queen. She was a better warrior than her, in fact, she could count the number of Muspellian capable of beat her in a match on one hand. But her dear sister had been deprived of her feelings for all of her life, she had been forged like a weapon, not pampered like a queen (even if most of the queens present in the Order were fierce warriors in their own right), the fact remained that Laevatein would not be prepared to be a Queen, not without help, and she always had been the only one to provide her with said help.

Except that she wasn't there this time.  
Her guilt came back with a vengeance, she should have done something! She should have written to her, or even fly back to Muspell at the first occasion! Screw the possible political fallout of the dead princess coming back to her homeland, she always thought that the only way to make her sit on that sullied throne was to protect her sister from the power vacuum that Surtr death would cause. Destiny decided to play a cruel trick on her, because now Laev was alone in a different kind of battle, one where she would be without ally and without guide, unable to understand her own feelings. She... She should have come back sooner, the Order would have understood why she did it. The Princess closed her black coat tighter around her shoudlers, they neared closer and closer from their destination, and even with her mind going awry, she could feel that the land welcomed her back.

The air was definitely warmer, and except for her most of the other Heroes had ditched their heavy robes or coat, the hot sun made the air shimmer above the red and arid steppe, from time to time, a geyser of boiling water would erupt in the background, making the earth tremble before its might. The scarce vegetation and fuming volcano stretching above the horizon was a know sight to her, a welcome sight, it was in those burning black clouds of smoke that she learned how to fly with Maelstrom, it was on this red soil that her blood had been spilled during soul crushing sessions of training. It was there that she fought rebellion, it was there that she marched toward their last invasion, it was... Home.

She could already see the black tip of the greatest volcano in the land, the fabled birthplace of the great dragon Muspell, with the capital of the kingdom at its feet. The legend said that the everlasting volcano would engulf the entire land if its people did not burn brighter than the sun. The black monstrosity was the source of their strengh and their greatest enemy, the land was rich in precious mineral used to forge magnificent weapons, the lava was brimming with barely restrained magic. But the land was harsh and demanding, food was constantly gained through war or grown in rare cultivated lands near the black city, water could be found in a river way up to the north and hundred of people needed to make a terrible trip to gather enough to live. The land molded the people of Muspell into warriors, the weak were purged by the land itself. The city itself had been built around the know lava path, with sometimes dozens of bridges built above the frequent flow of magma.

But... She could already see change.

It was small, almost insignificant, but compared to what they had to endure before? It was more than any kind of progress Surtr had ever made. The air was a little colder, nothing much, but enough that she could sense the difference, the roads were in better shape and their group had already crossed path with some foreign caravans or workers tending to the road. It was... A good sign. Not enough to entirely calm her mind, even if she never had been one to overstress something before, but it helped. The princess took a deep breath, and made sure that her coat was in place. The royal city was in view.

She was coming home, and she was terrified.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Hrid strongly disliked Muspell, he did not hate it, because hate was a word reserved for the now dead king of this scorching kingdom, but nonetheless he had a problem with heat and heat had a problem with him. Sighing heavily, the Prince took another swing of the canteen of cold water he made sure to have on him at any time. In fact know fact that the majority of the people of Nifl fared better in the cold, because at least when you're cold you could always put on more protection against the winter, but here, riding under the unforgiving sun and between the geysers of sulfur? There was nothing to do except endure the heat and advance, even when he feel like he was slowly boiling in his armor.

By chance, this mission should be a quick one and he knew that he would get used to the heat in a couple of days, he already experienced such discomfort during his crusade against Surtr and, even if the weather seemed against him, he appreciated the fact that he would have the chance to return to the royal city without the risk of being burned alive and he had to admit that he was curious on how Laevatein fared with her new power as a Queen. In fact, one of the primary reason has why he choose to volunteer for this mission was because he wanted to see his friend once more, even if he was not entirely the Hrid she knew. That, and the fact that he worried for Laegjarn.

It was subtle but he knew that the ex-General of Muspell was on the edge, the way her glare was fixated on the capital who slowly became bigger and bigger as they approached, the fact that she made sure that her coat was hiding her face when someone passed by (and with the capital in view, the restored road was more crowded with every mile), but he never saw his friend so worried about something. But it was understandable, this trip was anything but normal for her. Even himself felt anxious at the thought of coming back here, and he hated the fact that he could rarely take his eyes off the giant volcano and the royal city. The whole last push on Muspell still graved in his mind, he looked back at Laegjarn, remembering what had been one of the most difficult fight in his life, one that changed him at his core. The Prince wanted to know if the wivern rider remembered her last moment, and he hated the fact that he didn't know how to approach the topic of her death with her. she was a trusted friend, one that understood him, and he wanted to help her back.

The Prince made Neige advance to the horse of the Princess and he simply stood with her in silence for a couple of minutes, they watched the black capital that grew nearer with every step, like an imposing wall of black stone that seemed to judge everyone coming near the gate. Several spires, broken or otherwise, could be seen and added to the sight. They were like pikes on the back of a sleeping beast... The capital of Muspell was a reflection of the land, harsh, austere and imposing. But something was different this time, dozens of scaffolding were leaning on the wall, where hundred of workers could be seen at work. Even from miles away the people of Muspell could be seen patching the aftermath of decades of war and abuse at the hand of the King of Flame. It was a good sign, they seemed to be slowly healing.

"Hey, remember that I'm right behind you if you want to talk."

Laegjarn turned her head a little, and he spied one severe red eye looking at him. There was another pregnant pause where the Princess looked back at the capital.

"I know Hrid, and I'm grateful for that, but I need some time alone."

"I'm not going to say it's going to be alright, but I know that Laevatein will welcome you back."

He felt the killing glare he received even throughout the hood and felt the body of her friend freeze while she gripped the reins. And he knew that he made a mistake.

"Are you sure about that? Please, tell me about how you suddenly know more about Laevatein than her own sister."

Her voice was cold, aggressive, and Hrid flinched, he wanted to talk about how Laevatein and him bounded over their shared loss but... This would worsen her mood, he would talk with her about that with Laevatein herself, not before, not when she was already going through a terrible situation herself.

"No! I didn't mean it that way but..."

"I... Know what you're trying to say, Hrid, but I need some time alone, please."

"I understand. But... Muspell is slowly healing, maybe it's time for you to do the same."

There was no answer the time, and he slowed down Neige to give her space.  
The imposing doors were open for them, and the Prince could feel the piercing glare of the guards and citizens alike. Most of the city was being rebuilt, and workers could be seen everywhere. In fact, the city was buzzing with noise and life, way more than the last time he came here. Before, only the roar of the eternal flame could be heard in the city, like this cursed bonfire was also consuming the sound of the whole city, but now... He could hear the sound of people in the streets, foreign merchants and loud soldiers alike. He searched for the beggars and found none, but it was not unexpected, with this much work needed to be done most of the city must be working on the rebuilding. A platoon of guards stopped them and he instinctively put a hand on the pommel of his sword, but they were just there to go with the Order, people stopped their work to observe the strange procession of heroes. He could feel the eyes on them and keep his back straight and his face neutral, even when they passed above a river of lava a through the gate of the royal castle.

The Prince felt unease by the place, he could feel the heat coming from the river of magma under them, the cracked stones and suffocating air was bringing back unwanted memory of the war, the aura of Surtr was still around the broken halls, some walls still sporting scorched marking, he used his power to subtly cool off his body temperature and not bow against the heat. The group made their way in the hall in silence, still guided by the platoon of guards and observed by servants and other dignitary. The whole march felt... Intimidating.

His gaze lingered on the place were he fought with Laegjarn and he knew that the Princess was looking too.

Finally, the Order made its way to the royal room, once upon a time he faced Surtr between those burned walls, the room was the hottest in the whole kingdom, with the webbing on the ground betraying the presence of the inferno barely contained right under the castle. The piece seemed to be pulsing with unbound power, but something was... Different. Before, the room felt... Hungry. The air had been saturated with a suffocating magic betraying the need to feast and burn, now it was simply heat. A terrible and maddening heat, but it was... Not as angry as before.

"Order of Heroes, I welcome you within my hall."

Hrid looked at the new queen with trepidation and an hint of worry. Laevatein did not change at all, she was rigid against the black throne, her focused and unflinching gaze seemed to test everyone in the Order. Her sword was still at her hip and she now sported an upgraded version of her armor, one that gave her a more imposing posture. Her pink hair was still put into large twintails, but were accommodated for the sleek black tiara she was now wearing. She seemed... Ruthless and defiant. Dangerous, that what she was, dangerous. Her whole posture, voice and attitude reeked an terrible aura of danger. Of controlled menace. She was the perfect picture of a warrior queen, with was nothing less he expected coming from a kingdom built on strength and war.

She was also accompanied by what seemed to be... Old mens? Chancellors perhaps? One wore a heavy looking robe with a black and red dragon on it, in fact here was a small entourage in the throne room, observing the group in silence. He remembered some face from his time here, some of them were warrior in the military, others were religious chief, all of them had a respectable distance between the queen and them. In fact, most of them seemed... Concerned. But it was not all, the room was filled with other people who seemed to be coming from many social classes. Most of them were harmed, but he knew what they were, witness or spectators.  
Prince Alphonse, Princess Sharena, Commander Anna and the Summoner advanced before the throne with Alphonse at the head, he knew that they were tense, but none of them showed it. Some using the training they received as royal and Kiran used his coat as a shield to shroud himself in his mysterious aura.

"And the Order thank you, Queen Laevatein."

Nothing was said on the still unknown mission the Order needed to do in Muspell, this was just political smoke for everyone to see, but one that Laevatein handled with... A cold and calculating eye. The Queen rose and made their way to Alphonse, there was no finesse in her step, nothing royal, she was walking like a soldier. One confidant in the power she could wield, one that would not allow her people to suffer once more. She was fierce and redoubtable.

"You know why I requested your presence."

Alphonse nodded before looking back straight at the still hooded Laegjarn, the group of four moved to each side and the silent order was immediately understood by the wyvern rider. She removed her hood, and a gasp was heard across the crowd, but the spectator didn't get any wilder and quickly stopped their noise when the guard in the room tapped the butt of their spear in unison. Laegjarn slowly walked before the queen, letting go of the coat to reveal her armor and weapon... And she kneeled immediately. There was no hesitation or compromise, she bowed before her sister with her armored gauntlets on the ground.

"As the Ruler of Muspell, I, Queen Laevatein, now declare Princess Laegjarn cut from any claim to the throne of Muspell via her Summoning into the Order of Heroes."

There was another murmur in the crowd, everyone looked at the bowing princess in surprise, incomprehension or outrage. But the ex-General looked unfazed, unflinching before her sister the Queen, she slowly nodded and accepted her fate. Hrid could feel the tension in the room, and some of the Chancellors murmuring between them. This was expected, by common accord every Heroes summoned in the Order with royal blood from a nearby kingdom lost all claims to that throne, it was written in the ancient text, way before the first war between Askr and Embla.

"Now rise, Laegjarn."

She did so, mechanically, and looked at the Queen...  
And her little sister smiled. Which was... Unexpected, coming from Laevatein, but how so precious. She smiled and her voice changed, claiming the greatest new for the whole kingdom to hear. The stern queen changed into a bonfire of happiness, simply with a radiant smile of happiness.

"People of Muspell! Today is a joyous day! My sister blesses our land with her presence once more, and tonight will be a night a festivity like this kingdom have not seen in ages! For tonight we welcome our greatest ally, the Order, and the champion of our people!"

The crowd cheered, and this time the guard allowed it. Laevatein closed the distance with her sister and the two Princesses hugged tightly. Laegjarn's facade cracked as she welcomed the person she loved the most in her arms, and all the tension seemed to leave the room, and her body, in an instant. The Order applauded the reunion too, all of them with bright smiles on their faces, and Hrid clapped while looking at the duo with a caring smile. This scene, even in a place filled with tragedy, bloodshed and war, warmed his heart. This was the day were two sisters were reunited, where they had the second chance to say all that had been unsaid. To be together, even for some time, was all they deserved. He felt happy for them, and he knew that the Laegjarn and Laevatein could face anything together.

Especially when the reunion didn't seem to please some people in the room, Hrid saw the old priest with the black dragon robes exiting the room, fuming. But it will come later, now was the time for joyous reunion and party, and one thing was sure, the Order knew how to party. Even more when it was for a good new like this one.


	11. Sisters

The 'party' organised by the royal staff of Muspell was not a big one, how could it be? There was simply more food on the table than usual, a group of musicians playing heavy sounding ballads of camaraderie and war. People talked, laughed, smiled, it was not a big gathering, well, not by the standard of other royal family, especially when the parties in Nifl were so... Formal. But here? It was so... Honest, eager, full of life and cheer, the room was boiling with the combined heat of the volcano and the people, the food was also unnecessary spiked with spice that made him cough more than once. He hasn't touched to alcohol, because he knew that in that goblet waited something that would make him spit his lungs, simply judging by the fact that this brew was capable of affecting the heaviest drinker of the Order and that he saw Anna fell of her chair after taking a sip. People were dancing, some of them forming a coordinated core in the center of the room, while most of them were simply dancing a sort of strange gig lead by Kiran. Heroes, commoners and nobles melded to form a strange and heteroclit group of dazed misfits eating and drinking together, he knew that the festivities were touching the whole city with the announcement of small banquets dispatched around the different place, and judging by the number of people going in and out of the castle the capital seemed to brim with life. There was a craving in the smile of the people, it was perhaps the first time they had the chance to unwind like this since years, because he doubted that Surtr was the one to party between to massacre.

Hrid flinched a little when some fire dancer took place on the dance floor and began to meld magic and martial prowess into an impressive game of light and shadows. People continued to cheer and awe, and the small Fae some table away could barely contain her excitement at all the 'pretty lights' going around, the Prince smiled at the general enthusiasm of the room and the warmth spreading in his chest. He longed for this, the chance to see people genuinely happy, people enjoying life together, without boundaries and prejudice. But the cherry on top? At the end of the massive table was Laegjarn and Laevatein, sat next to each other and talking vigorously. Laegjarn seemed... Radiant. There was no other word for how she seemed to radiate happiness, and he was glad for his friend. All was good in the end, they were together again, free from the clutches of their mad father. Laegjarn seemed to do most of the talking, while her younger sister was simply throwing a word or two. Hrid smiled warmly at the scene, glad to be that Laevatein was doing alright and that she could bear her new burden with pride. He didn't see much for now, but he liked what he saw, he hoped he could talk to her later, friend to friend. She seemed to struggle with her emotions, but she seemed to do better for now.

The two princesses of Muspell suddenly looked in his direction, and Laevatein nodded at him with a slight smile that he returned easily. He caught the glaze of Laegjarn and was surprised on how... Conflicted she looked during a brief, almost imperceptible moment. She smiled with hesitation, then eagerness, raising her glass in his direction for a silent cheer. Hrid smiled with an hint of confusion before raising his glass too, asking a silent question with a shake of his head. The Princess simply shook her head too, dismissing their silent conversation before beginning to talk with her sister once more.

"Oh? Did one of the Princesses caught your eyes? They're indeed breathtaking when they smile."

Hrid turned to see his interlocuter and table neighbor with a damned slight blush on his face, seeing Virion sipping in his own goblet, Hrid didn't knew how but he looked very smug while doing so, especially when the archer was smiling at him unbothered by the harshness of his drink. The Prince nearly rolled his eyes, a little bothered by the choice of conversation of the Duke, but years of training allowed him to hide his discomfort. Hrid... Didn't talked often to the archer, he knew that he was one of the first Hero summoned by Kiran, that he was a good strategist, an excellent shoot and one of the many flirt of the army, albeit one that wove his words with the same precision as his bowstring.  
But even if that bothered him, he had to admit that the two princesses looked beautiful when they smiled...  
And the blush came back, no, it probably was the heat caused by the room or the food.

"I would prefer not to answer, for that would be exposing myself to a wave of incessant teasing or rumors."

He did not dislike the Duke, far from it, but he was not in the mood for those kind of line of thought. Even more when his head wandered back to the clouds from time to time, and the rush of sensation he felt during this flight.

"I would never do something so uncivilised, my friend, but do be careful. This kind of silent glares and conversations goes rarely unnoticed by those who are ready to use everything they can get against someone. Especially when the killer of Surtr is concerned."

Hrid blinked in surprise, he had been so worried for Laevatein and swept away by the party that he almost forgot that yes, he killed the madman in this very room not two months ago. He looked at the room with different eyes and noticed some things, that his plate was a little more filled than the others, that his place was perfect to enjoy the spectacle and how a servant would pass everytime his cup was empty, filling it with water almost immediately. He noticed the small glances throw at him, most of them curious or thankful and some of them filled with eagerness and respect. He was surrounded by silent thanks, little gesture here and there, a nod from a soldier or a smile from a woman. He was not in enemy territory, it was the opposite, but there was a small chance that someone was watching the whole party for something to use against the newly crowned Queen. Because even if Laevatein seemed to do better than expected, Hrid did not expect her reign to begin smoothly.  
There was a reason as why the Order was here, after all.

"... Thank you, I will keep it in mind."

"You're welcome. Now on to more serious matters, you have to admit that Laegjarn is looking radiant tonight, or perhaps are you more interested by the cold beauty of Queen Laevatein?"

Hrid sighed, putting a hand on his face with his blush creeping up once more.  
This was going to be a long night.  
But looking at how lively and happy everything was, maybe it was not such a bad thing.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Laegjarn wondered how everything could have changed so quickly. Tonight, the throne room she hated with every fiber of her body became the place where she passed her favorite night. She was feeling tipsy, not because of the alcohol but because everything had been so... Alive, everything had been moving so fast. Laevatein was here, she was still here, she missed her so much. They had talked about everything and nothing, about how she missed the comfort of the battlefield since her coronation and how the struggle she had faced from the beginning forced her to be someone better, greater. Laevatein saw that her sister still struggled with her emotions, but at least she was beginning to show some spark of... Happiness, anger, fear... Of life. They kept everything to themselves, their ushered conversation had been covered by the sheer noise of the room. They talked about everything except for the reasons why the Order was here and... Her death. Laegjarn knew that this dreaded conversation would come soon enough, but not in front of everyone, she wasn't sure if she could have kept her emotions in check with a topic like this. So they talked about a new common interest of them. Hrid.

He never told her that he stayed with Laevatein after her death, he omitted that he gave her solace after her death and help for the beginning of her reign. It was... Kind of him, not long ago she would have said too kind but... Now that she knew him? It was not surprising, this man was a gentle and warm soul. They had toasted together and she didn't know why she did it, but she felt glad that she did it. He had earned some more tangible thanks later, but this would come after the other part of the night. Another new thing that took place in the castle. Discreet reunion of power in the dark.

She was next to Laevatein in one humble room of the castle, her sister seemed so... Tired now. Her face would have been unchanged for everyone else but she knew, she could see the way her neck tensed slightly when she repressed a yawn. Prince Alphonse, Sharena, Commander Anna, the Summoner were here, as expected for the Order. The particular thing was that Laevatein had also requested the presence of Fjorm and Hrid. The atmosphere in the room was... Relaxed. Most of them were feeling the aftermath of the party, not enough to be unable to be present, but enough to melt the tension that this kind of discreet reunion could have created.

"I will go straight to the point." Announced Laevatein with a surprising presence. "I need your help."

There was no shame or bitterness in this statement, no begging, it was a request filled with utmost importance and yet she did not pressure the group with pleading or desperation. Some would say that she delivered it that way because Laevatein was still learning to feel, but she knew that it was intentional, she wanted to hope that her sister was on the right track

And of course, one look between everyone is the room and a nod was enough to see that they made their decision.

"We will be happy to help, Queen Laevatein can you shine light on what is the problem." Said Alphonse with that spark of resolve he would often get when he knew that it was time to do what the Order did best, helping people from any horizons.

Her sister paused before nodding solemnly.

"There is a town one day up to the west, Brùniviðr, that is one of our biggest mining towns. Some rebels lead by a platoon of surviving Surtr' elite took the city a week ago and claim that they will use the town to organise a tournament to determine who deserve to be the true ruler of Muspell. "

"Surely this is not where the problem lies, what is preventing you from going there and winning the tournament?"

"Because I swore to never spill blood with my blade again. And everyone will be fighting to the death."

Laegjarn stopped and looked at her sister, who still had her sword attached to her hips. An honest expression of shock and surprise passed on her face, like everyone in the room, because it was a known fact that the Queen of Muspell was one of the greatest warrior in the whole kingdom. Hell, she had been named after the blade she wielded. To... Discard what made her so abruptly was... Something she could not have predicted.

"This vow was the first action I took as a Queen. I'm not a butcher anymore, I'm the rightful Queen of Muspell, my name will be remembered for something else than a tool of war. I'll send my father's legacy straight to oblivion."

She was so proud of her.

"This tournament exists since the dawn of our kingdom, but no one wanted to invoke it during Surtr' reign, The fact that this custom resurfaced after my vow is... Oddly appropriate for the man that is trying to undermine my reign, Stólsettr, the actual Bishop of the church of Muspell, that validated the claim before I could object. Not taking that tournament would be a show of weakness that could be the starting point of a civil war, without forgetting that they took the whole town in hostage, but taking place directly in said tournament would be breaking my vow and exposing myself to the nastiest bunch from the old army."

There was a tense silence, as everyone reflected on the situation that seemed like a well crafted trap. But Laegjarn was livid, livid at the fact that some people still wanted to live under the parody of a king that had been Surtr. People who dared to call for blood once more, ever worse, the blood of her sister. She remembered Stólsettr, that slime always had been cautious around her father. Just enough to scrape the empty shell of the religion and twisting it to become another servant of the Flame. The wyvern rider wanted nothing less to find the man and make him beg for mercy.

"On top of everything, I'm sure that the tournament is just a bait to force me out of the capital, there is a non negligible chance that whole setting is just a trap."

The silence stretched for some more time, time during Laegjarn tighten up her grip on her weapon without knowing, someone wanted to hurt her sister for this accursed throne. This will not stand, not without her here, or never for that matter.

"We already prepared a plan with Hrid." Added Laevatein, which surprised said Prince. "No, not you, the King of Nifl, we're corresponding since his coronation, he's doing his best to help me be the best Queen I can be."

Hrid and the Order nodded, even if Fjorm looked more intrigued than anything. Laegjarn's anger cooled down a little at the fact and she sent a thankful glare at the Prince. It was quickly gone when Kiran decided to speak up, refocusing on the matter at hand.

"If this is really a trap, we could send a group of Heroes check the city while most of the Order will stay here to watch that bishop."

"And the Heroes would then serve as bait, forcing the hand of the rebels to trigger the trap or make the tournament... It could work." Said Fjorm, catching on the general idea of the plan. "We just need to decide who's..."

"I'll go."/"I'll do it."

Laegjarn looked at Hrid, and Hrid looked back at Laegjarn. Two equals looked at each others will and liked what they saw. The drive to protect something, the same person and peace. Their efforts to topple Surtr will not be swept aside by fanatics unable to accept change and peace. Not for the first time, the two of them were on the same length, something that greatly surprised the wyvern rider, but did not displease her. It was reassuring to see that... She was doing good now, that she worked for peace, because Hrid always aimed to help, so he was the proof that she was doing what needed to be done for peace now. She was still fighting for what she held dear, but now, she was not harmed those who did not deserve it.  
It was a great feeling.

"Because there's no way i'm letting this happen, and if it's a tournament I'll not be able to claim the throne because I've been summoned, and yet i'm the closest relative to Laevatein, there's no way someone could contest it. But... I would appreciate it if Hrid was there."

Anna looked at the duo with a curious smile, and a knowing glare exchanged with Sharena, before going back to business.

"Alright, Laegjarn and Hrid you're in charge of this mission. You will take four other people with you, all capable of enduring a day long trip on wyvern back. The objectif is simple, go there, see if it's a trap. If it's one, destroy it, if it's not Laegjarn need to win that tournament, you will depart tomorrow at noon. Understood?"

The two of them strongly acquiesced, and Laegjarn felt a newfound fire in her. This. This was a mission that she could not afford to fail.

"Thank you for your help tonight, but I'll need to talk with my sister, in private please."

Laegjarn looked at Laevatein with curiosity, she looked... Conflicted. Everyone agreed to stop the reunion here and Laegjarn looked one last time at Hrid. He was perfect for this mission. She was eager to fight with him at her side for once.

The door closed behind them, leaving the two sisters alone.  
Laegjarn looked at her sister, the cold and inexpressive facade that was her face was slowly breaking down as heavy tears began to roll down her cheeks. Laegjarn immediately went to her sister and pulled her into another tight hug. The small body of the young queen began to be wracked with sobs contained for far too long, with the grief of seeing someone who seemed lost for ever. Laegjarn hugged her sister with all the care in the world, her eyes slowly filling with tears has Laevatein continued to cry on her shoulder.

"I'm so scared Laegjarn. Everything... Everything is going too fast, and you were gone. And I wasn't there for you, I... I never wanted to be Queen, I just wanted to stay with you."

Laevatein slowly began to undo the hairpin of her sister, letting her long pink hair free, she gently began to pass her hand in the pink locks, repeating the gesture in a soothing manner, her trembling hand did not help, but the gesture came naturally.

"I'm here now Laev, I'm here and... And I'm not going anywhere, it's a promise. I know it's difficult, I know it's the hardest battle of your life but... But I know it's one you can win, that we can win."

The two sisters continued to sob messilly into each other arms, not wanting to let go of the other for fear and losing the other once more. Barely contained turmoils of emotion began to resurface as everything came down. As nothing was here to see the breakdown of the traumatized daughters who had nothing but each other for years.

"I'm still scared, I'm scared of not being strong enough to rule, I'm scared of becoming like father, I-I refuse to become like this... This..."

"Laevatein, listen to me. You will never be like the bastard that father was, you are the greatest, noblest and strongest person in Muspell. Your reign will be the brightest in all the history of Muspell, not by strength but by kindness and compassion. You are someone I truly believe in, you are what kept me going during all this time, and even today. You have my everlasting love, respect and affection, because you're everything to me."

"Then stay with me tonight, just tonight, I know that you will not be able to stay here forever, but just tonight. Please."

"Of course, I'm staying with you now, nothing will keep us apart."

They finally broke the hug, and the two crying sisters looked at each other with their red eyes and shaking breath. Laegjarn began to wipe the tears off the face of her sister with a motherly care.

"I'm so proud of you, little sister, and I know I'll be even prouder of what you will be."

Through the tears and her fear, Laevatein began to smile brighter than she ever had. And everything was right in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be no update for the next two weeks, I'll be away on a trip with my university! Take care everyone and please consider voting for Laegjarn or Hrid in the CYL!


	12. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick chapter I managed to write before going on my trip and I decided to post it for the 2nd anniversary of FEH!

After a small reunion between the Order, it was decided that two squads of four people will be prepared for this mission lead by Laegjarn and Hrid. Nonetheless, many decoy squads had been sent throughout the morning to blurry the composition of the final squads, there was no illusion at the fact that the rebels were probably warned and expecting to be under attack soon enough, but every bit helped in that situation. Laegjarn and Hrid would lead the two Macedionian sisters, Minerva and Maria, followed by Cherche and Virion, and the stern duo made by Beruka and Ishtar closed the team. To blurry the threats assesment, Laegjarn had taken Virion as a passenger and Hrid would be travelling with Cherche, and the two duo went at different times in the morning before reuniting at a meeting point. The team was a little too heavy of axes user for everyone's taste, but one of the volcanoes near Brùniviðr was spewing heavy cinders miles around the city, effectively forcing the Order to travel with wyvern, more suited for this kind of environment than their feathered counterparts, and effectively slowing them down for the whole trip. The rest of the squad was more balanced, and the presence of a magic powerhouse like Ishtar was appreciated. With their calculations, the eight member squad would reach the city by tomorrow morning, forcing them to stop during the night to avoid the exhaustion of their mounts.

Hrid went through all those facts as he covered his face again with a heavy perfumed rag, the heavy winds surrounding Minerva, Cherche' wyvern, were making the whole trip worse even when the night was slowly descending on them. The long afternoon had been passed in the coverage of the ashen clouds, and he knew that his armor would need a good scrubbing after this mission, the soot was everywhere and even with the cape given by Laevatein for everyone he had to admit that this flight was miles away from the last flight he had with Laegjarn. He didn't see the afternoon pass, especially when the only time he saw the sun was when the squad made sure than everyone was still here, before returning in the coverage of the clouds. Talking in here was foolishness, so he passed the hour thinking about the whole situation. He had been happy to see that Laevatein was doing relatively well for a soldier turned Queen, but not surprised by the fact that she had detractors. Even the best of rulers had an enemy who wanted their position, so of course it was logical that some power hungry fool would try to overthrow a unprepared ruler. The Prince was glad to hear that the other version of him helped Laevatein, he remembered proposing to help her if needed and was glad to be able to help her from two fronts. But this relief was mitigated by the anger caused by the actions of the Bishop Stólsettr, how could some people want to reinstate the regime of that madman? But there was no need to worry, he already killed a power hungry madman, he could do it a second time.

Finally, after what seems to be an eternity passed in those damned ashen clouds, the platoon stopped at the top of some rocky black cliffs filled with cavities big enough to set camp and be protected from the harsh winds and the heat, there was no need for a fire, because the distant floods of lava were bright enough to light the darkening sky. The Prince thanked Cherche, who responded with a polite smile while undoing her cape. Everyone in the group began to brush themselves or tending to their wyvern, with Laegjarn and Virion staying behind to feed Maelstrom, before following a small rocky path to one of the caverns and preparing a small camp for the night. Simple rations and a canteen of water were enough for everyone, even if some frowns were thrown here and there. While eating, the eight Heroes went over the plan for tomorrow. Everyone knew that this plan would probably be changed on the run, they had little to no information because all the scouts sent by Laevatein did not come back, but some preparations never hurt. It would be quite simple, Laegjarn and Hrid would serve as bait, knowing that they were primary targets, if assaulted like expected the two of them would draw a maximum amount of rebels to them while retreating and the three other trios would go straight for the head of the rebels, harassing them while hoping to get a killing blow on the unknown leader. And if the tournament was genuine, they would do their best to cover Laegjarn to victory.

With all of that covered, guard duty was decided. And while no one had a preference, Virion suggested that Hrid and Laegjarn would be better taking the same shift, knowing that they would probably discuss strategy together. Hrid... Was suspicious as why the Duke seemed so proud of this suggestion, and he had the sentiment that there was something else. But none of that mattered before the glare sent by Laegjarn to the Duke, who seemed to begin to sweat even with his wavering smile, earning a sigh from Cherche, the rest of the group was either uninterested or confused at what was going on. Hrid shrugged, before getting up and bidding good night to the rest of the group, followed soon by the wyvern rider.

The two of them walked out of the cavern together, going on the top of the cliff were the wyvern had begun to sleep, Maelstrom looked at the duo with indifference before going back to sleep, Hrid sat down at the top of the cliff and pulled off his sword, creating a small cloud of steam as the air was instantly cooled off, the Prince began to clean the blade with meticulous and precise gesture, he looked at Laegjarn sat at his side, the warrior looked lost in thougths, looking at the rivers of lava flowing down some volcanos in the horizon. Without really realizing it, Hrid let his gaze wander on the soft features of her face, intrigued by why her vibrant eyes looked so distant. The penumbra played some curious game on her skin while the hot winds would sometime ruffle her lovely hair. Strangely, Hird felt.... Reassured by the fact that she would be with him tomorrow, he knew how reliable she was, and she knew how reliable he was. He knew that there was a strange bond between them, one that bloomed from respect between enemy to genuine friendship. It felt strange that some time ago he hated her with all his rage. Surtr had twisted his mind, causing a numbing rage rooted deep within him. her last moments had been a much needed wake up call. When she chooses to sacrifice herself for Laevatein, Hrid understood that she was no heartless monster, but another victim of Surtr tyranny. He could still have chosen to hate her, most of people would, but... Hate was for the weak, the spiteful. Surtr was dead, and even if he caused so much pain, he was nothing more than a ghost of the past. Their friendship was the proof that this ghost had nothing on them, that they choose to be free from his shadow, free and happy.

The Princess caught his glare and he blinked, a little ashamed, before refocusing on his sword.

"Hrid... We need to talk about something."

Oh dear.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Laegjarn had been unhappy with her current travelling companion. Not that Virion was provocative or rude, quite the contrary in fact, but he had said at the beginning of their flight that he would find a way to make her smile before the end of the day. It was foolish of him, and she knew it should not bother her that much but he had that sort of look in his eyes that said 'I know something that you don't, and I found it hilarious' that was beginning to tick her off, just a little. And he tried, he really did, but sweet-talk was difficult when you were in a cloud of ash. It was nothing terrible, but he had to stay here when she began to feed Maelstrom.

"This is still not over, you know." Said the archer, clearly bothered by the fact that his usually pristine clothes were blackened by dust. "I'm sure I can be blessed with a smile from someone radiant like you."

"You will have nothing of the sort, or Maelstrom will have a second serving today."

The wyvern moved his massive head to look at the archer, wondering if Rosanne desert was on the menu, before coming back to eating his ration. To his credit, Virion had the guts to pet the wyvern on the back of his neck with a slight smile.

"My dear, know that I am immunized by wyven based threats, Cherche already abused them back home and..."

Laegjarn made a clicking noise with her mouth and Maelstrom simply moved his head before spatting some black smoke that ruffled the air of the Duke. He coughed some smoke, clearly bothered by the smell of sulfur, before passing a sullied hand on his face and looking down at his now worse attire. Virion closed his eyes and sighed.

"That is quite childish of you."

"I warned you."

"I guess you did." Said the Duke with a chuckle before heading to the encampment. "Oh well, this will be a nightmare to wash."

The wyvern rider smiled before rolling her eyes, amused by the whole scene. If she was honest with herself all of this was... Refreshing. Back in the army, her sister and the occasional Helbindi were the only one who wanted to talk with her outside of direct orders. She... Longed for this kind of camaraderie. A lot of Heroes in the Order believed that bonds could be a sort of strength that could overcome the greatest challenge, she didn't believed it at first but... Maybe she would see how now, her sister always had been what drove her to go forward, even now.

"You should smile more often, my friend, I'm sure a certain Prince of Nifl would appreciate it. Also I won."

She froze, a small blush creeping up her cheeks, before silently cursing the Duke and focusing back on her wyvern. She knew she shouldn't blush with such harmless teasing, but she acknowledged that she had been totally unprepared for that. Even more on the topic of Hird. Thinking about the Nilfian prince she needed to talk to him soon. Laevatein had explained what he did after her demise, how he helped her cope even with the war still fresh in their mind. And why her sister gave him her... Her ashes. She didn't know how to feel about this, who could? But... Perhaps it was better this way, she always assumed that she would burn in the Flame of her father or be killed on the battlefield with her body left to rot, to hear that someone took the time to honor her death was... Touching? But it was true that she always had wanted to explore the land of Ice outside the war. The fact that Hrid had been the one to do it didn't bother her much, he was a good man and a proud warrior, and the fact that the Hrid that now ruled Nifl did everything to help Laevatein reign was comforting. Even going against the wishes of some of the inhabitants who wanted retribution for the war, Hrid was... A kind soul.  
She needed to talk to him.

The wyvern rider mused this over the meal, talking about the plan for tomorrow and deciding how guard duty would be done. Virion earned a piercing glare from her when he put oil on the fire by proposing the perfect occasion to tackle what bothered her. But she didn't refuse and accepted it, knowing that it would probably confuse Hrid if she refused. She made her way back to the top of the cliff with the prince, trying to find a way to tackle the subject with her friend. The General sat down on the warm stone, her gaze lost deep in thoughts and in the flow of lava coming from volcanoes far away. Strangely, the princess felt reassured by this, she patrolled those lands so many times before, sometime for training or hunting. Muspell was her home, just one that had been tainted by her father' madness, it was still a ruthless land, one filled with danger... But one that would become a peaceful place under the reign of her sister. She was sure of it.

Laegjarn looked at the prince, wondering if his reigning counterpart would play a role in this future. With surprise, she caught the prince observing her with something she could not decipher. Hird quickly focused back on his sword, and Laegjarn decided that there was no better time than now.

"Hrid... We need to talk about something."

The prince seemed to froze before putting his sword back in his sheat, she invited him to come closer with a small movement of her head and the two of them sat near the edge of the cliff. There was a tense silence between the two of them, before Laegjarn began to undo one of her gauntlets, presenting her bare hand to the prince.

"I know it's going to sound weird but... Can you please take my hand?"

Why she was doing this. It was the worst possible way of talking about this, why she was doing this?!  
The prince blushed before taking off his gauntlet too and gently wrap his hand around her.  
He was cold, exactly how she remembered, the gentle freeze clashed with the natural heat of her body in a comfortable way. The both of them were hesitant, Laegjarn perhaps even more than the confused prince, but this felt... Right. The strange sensation was sending tingling spark of something down her spine, something she would not try to comprehend, not now. She turned her head away, trying to hide her blush, still gently holding his hand before saying:

"I lied to you, and I'm sorry for that." Ushered the Princess. "My last memory was you holding my hand has I was dying. And... I needed to get that out my mind but... Thank you."

"You should not thank me, I robbed you of your life and I robbed Laevatein of her sister, I..."

"Don't. You did what needed to be done. And you've shown compassion like I never saw before, it's a shame I needed to die in order to truly meet you. But... I'm glad you were here in my last moments."

"Laegjarn..."

"I'm not finished. What you did was give me a noble death for someone who did not deserve it. This hand that I'm holding right now was the only lifeline of sanity during my last moments. I was filled with regrets and shame, but during my last moments I knew that you would be there for my sister, I knew that you would be the one to undo Surtr. And that's exactly what you did. You freed my sister and gave her a chance to truly live, you gave her hope and did everything to ease her in her new role. And for that, you have my unbounded gratitude."

Hrid gently squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back. Looking into his icy blue eyes filled with warmth and compassion, with care that she never saw before except in the eyes of her sister. But this was different, Hrid was different, what she was feeling right now was different from anything she ever felt before. She wanted to lean into the confortable cold he was emitting, she wanted to... To understand what she was feeling. Laegjarn interrupted the prince one last time:

"And... You honored me in death. You choose to take my ashes back to your home and let me discover the land I never wanted to conquer. You could have refused, you could have been bitter against the one who lead an army into your homeland, you would have been bitter for someone who share blood with a monster who killed your sister... But you did not. You... You cried for me. Your enemy. And... It helped me go in peace. But... Why?"

The prince was silent for some horribly long seconds, he smiled sadly at her before putting his second hand on her and she felt her heartbeat go faster as the sensation of cold accentuated, stronger than ever. He was close, a little too close, but not close enough.

"You... Pulled me back from a dark place." Began the prince. "I was bitter, full of rage and vengeance. I wanted Surtr head of a pike for what he had done, and when we began to clash I... I wanted nothing more than to hurt you before going for your father. I'm still ashamed at how my emotions got the better of me during that time, but I was out for blood and nothing more. And yet, when we clashed... I saw the desperation in your eyes, the fear of what this madman would do if we failed. And I realised that I was not fighting a monster but... Someone who puts everything on the line to help someone dear, you had this drive, this fierceness, that made me understand that... I was on a wrong path."

He looked at her with such vibrant sincerity that she was almost taken aback.

"When you went down and pleaded for your sister's life you... You pulled me back. You reminded me for what I was fighting, and I cried at the fact that this war took another sister from her family, I cried at the fact that we could have been the greatest of friends if this war did not happen, I cried because you did not deserve what happened to you."

He smiled with care and confidence, and she smiled back with tears beginning to form at the corner of her eyes.

"And now? Now I'm glad that you're here, Laegjarn. I'm glad that you're my friend and that we can fight together to protect people who are worth protecting. And I know, from the bottom of my heart, that we can do wonderful thing together."

"I know it too, Hrid, I know that whatever wait for us tomorrow we're going to face it together and win."

She swept her tears with her free hand, chuckling slightly when Hrid asked her if everything was alright. Yes, everything was more than alright... And for the first time in decades, Laegjarn considered that maybe, just maybe, the future was looking bright for her.


	13. Smoke

Hrid was more focused on the battle to come than on what happened yesterday, well, he was mostly focused on the battle to come because he knew that daydreaming could and would have dire consequences for him or the other Heroes, and yet his mind would constantly return to the face to face, and heart to heart, he had with his current riding companion. He did expect her wounds to be so deep and how refreshing this whole talk have been. Like a unknow weight had just been lifted from his shoulders and mind. He knew for sure now, whatever waited Laegjarn and him, they were in together. He should have stopped here, he would have stopped here, but he could not deny that something unique happened to them yesterday, like another wall had been breached. Hrid was glad that they talked to each other, like friends, with no walls between them. She helped him see the more tainted part of him, and assured that they were no more hard feeling between the two of them, even with such a strange and dire history together. And, if he was honest with himself, he didn't quite disliked the time he passed with her under the star, more than that, the sensation of her warm hand in his provoked something he did not dare to describe, but it was certainly not unpleasant. Something warm and fuzzy that brought a smile between the heavy rag he kept around his face.

He had a pretty good idea of what this sentiment was. But it would not focus on it, not right before a battle. Even more when his guts were telling him that something was off with this whole operation.

Laegjarn made a silent sign to the two other wyvern riders has she began to descend, the plan was simple, they were the bait for the rebels with the goal to gain a maximum amount of time. Meanwhile, the two other duo would fly directly to the mine and would try to free the possible hostage. If somehow the whole setting was not a trap, then the two other duos would fly around the zone and try to discover where the potential hostages would be kept, and if nothing was found they were ordered to come directly back to Laegjarn and Hrid. The prince was not optimistic about that, knowing that the rebels were composed of what survived of Surtr finest and more bloodthirsty warriors.

And... Was it him or the smoke smelled different somehow?

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

It smelled like peoples burning.

Laegjarn could recognise that terrible smell between any other, the pungent fume of death and agony were engraved in her childhood nightmare. It had been barely noticeable at first, but now that they were approaching the town at a fast pace? There was no mistake, the smell of burnt body was already suffocating. Like an invisible hand that tried to strangle you from within, this terrible and wrong scent, one she and her sister were too accustomed. She abhorred this scent and everything that was attached to it. It reminded of the times where Surtr would go on a rampage and reduce district into ashes on a whim, it reminded her of the threats of that madman and how sometime she barely escaped this dire fate from his hand. It reminded her of her overwhelming death, of the screams of the losts, of everything precious that was burned to nothingness.  
It was the scent of fatherly madness and broken dreams.

Someone was following the steps of her father, someone was mimicking this madman. She was furious and disgusted... No, it was deeper than that, it was exactly like when Surtr killed Helbindi's sister and burned the whole district with it. This was enough to trigger something buried deep within her, the rage of the cornered animal fueled by a fear rooted deep into her childhood. They were flying in the ashes of innocent people. This whole cloud was made of the remains of people who had already suffered enough. She was willing to speak with the rebels at first, but now? To Hel with those monsters, Kiran and the Order will understand, more important, Laevatein will understand. Blood will be spilled today, enough to put this maddening fire out.

"Hrid! I want you to cloak us in ice right now! Prepare to engage!"

She had a plan, she often had a plan. Not always, but enough to deserve her title as the General of Muspell. And even with her bloodlust of the verge of overtaking her, she knew better than to rush into what could be a terrible situation. She was glad that the man she decided to trust followed immediately. She air and wind around Maelstrom cooled off, enough to see steam already rising of the thick scales of the wyvern. Maelstrom whined, not in pain but clearly uncomfortable, and Laegjarn patted the side of his neck to encourage him.

The wyvern rider dived as soon that she caught sight of some house of chiseled stones, the imposing form of Maelstrom cut the smoke and the air with an intimidating screak and they soon pierced the cover of the morbid cloud. The small village appeared before her as her sharp eyes analysed every detail she could catch during her descent. What she saw made her even more furious, the small village was almost empty except for some man and woman sporting the emblems of her deceased father. Warriors, already sounding the alarm as the impressive wyvern continued his way down. But what caught her attention and ire was the roaring bonfire in the middle of the central place, she could already see the twisted remains of people attached to the wood. A veritable graveyard of splinted bones and charred flesh was paving what had been the liveliest place of this small community. Her blood boiled hotter than the inferno presented before her, as the scent became even more pungent, she could hear the screams of some of the fresher victims, their cry of pain and Surtr's laugher. She was too late, she always had been too late.

Maelstrom did not slow down as archers began to take aim and warrior reached for their weapons. She looked back during a single second, looking at Hrid, the man had a somber look she knew too well and was also looking straight at the fire, his sword already drawn. The glacial winds around them began to shift with renewed gust, a literal cloud of steam rising from them as they screamed a war cry filled with anger and righteous fury. The two of them did not hesitate, they did not fear, they understood and they hated as one. Bound in the same visceral pain caused by what the fire at taken. They charged the inferno as one.  
And the inferno caved in.

The shock of the charging wyvern cloaked in cold and the raging inferno provoked an explosion of steam followed by the deafening sound of trashed wood. Cries were heard as the chaos took place around the soldiers, panic spread like wildfire as the surprise attack took their sight from them. And yet, even between the cry of the wounded and the order shouted around, the world seemed to become silent as the silhouette of Maelstrom was drawn in the smouldering ashes and rising smoke. The rebels heard two war cries accompanied the beast, the smoke covering the place was soon filled with the sound of strangled cry and steel against steel. People were screaming, people were dying, people were fighting. It was war in its purest form.

Laegjarn knocked off the clumsy spear coming for her and beheading the rebel in a swift movement, she took the weapon and hurled it at an upcoming archer. The woman kneeled down with this weapon buried deep within her torso, but the ex-General didn't stop here, the flame twisting around her sword were hotter than ever before, she was a being of unbound fury and rage. Especially since she recognised those warriors, they're Surtr's elites, those he deemed worthy of being in his presence and fighting with him in every battle. They were a small troop of seasoned warrior she had the discomfort of working with before. They were more bloodthirsty beasts than human, but she could not have imagined that they would be able to reproduce the madness of their dead ruler. Some most have escaped the Order during the last assault on the castle. But this was not important, they would die here, all of them. By fire or ice.

She could feel the imposing form of Maelstrom shifting in the melee, but she whistled for him to go, knowing that he would be the easiest target for archers and mages, the wyvern roared a last time, revealing his imposing wings and taking flight with what remained of a mage in his claws. Laegjarn refocused on the upcoming assault now that her position was known, and already arrows and spells began to fly around her. Wind spells were only making the matter worse for the soldier, rising more ashe with every gust of winds, the battleground was a thick fog of fire and death, it was her element.  
And here, she was death incarnate.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Hrid hated this fight.  
The Prince did not like a lot of fight to begin with, but the visibility was terrible and the only thing that protected him for suffocating on the ashes was the heavy barrier of frozen air he put around himself, the spell constantly struggling against the smoke and heat. But this? This was nothing. Hrid really hated one thing in this whole mess, it was that he wanted every single one of them dead, when he understood what was happening here, his blood began to boil. Fury was guiding his hand just like the time he fought Surtr, Gjöll was the righteous instrument of death, the lame already turned red with the blood of madmens. This was not his kingdom, the burned remains he was fighting on were not his people, and yet... And yet he was willing to give his life to avenge them. He would be the cold fury that would cut through their armor and corpse. There was no time, there was no pain, only war.

The prince dodged the strike of an incoming sword knight before channeling ice in his blade and shifting under the guard of his opponent, the sword pierced the heavy armor and bite into the flesh, he used the heavy corpse as a shield to protect him from the sizzling heat coming from an thunder spell, he gritted his teeth as the electricity coursed through his improvised shield before taking his sword out and raising it. A heavy spear of ice materialised from the tip of his weapon and flew right into the guts of the mage who began to freeze in place, shattering soon after. Hrid spat down to the ground, rolling his battered shoulders before charging an unexpected soldiers.

The battle continued in this realm of obscurity of ashes, pain and fire. The prince seemed to be lost in limbo, the only thing keeping him on edge being the twisted and screaming form behind the smoke, a feminine cry of anger caught his attention as he dispatched for his current opponent by cutting throughout her torso with a parry. He rushed to the voice, already knowing that Laegjarn would be on the other side. Flash of flame and heat were a clear indication of where she was, and the Prince flared his own power to indicate he was nearby. The sudden shift in temperate made him grit his teeth, as the aftermath of their fenzied dive began to rear its ugly head.

"Laegjarn!"

The Princess turned her angry red eyes to him. Hrid made his way to Laegjarn, back to back , the two of them took a defense stance and waited.  
Soon enough, another wave of warriors made their way to them. Lancers tried to run through them, swordmens tried to best them, battered by archers and mages the two of them counterattacked with spears of ice or stolen weapon that the wyvern rider threw back. The smoke was helping, culling and slowing the assault, as the two of them covered each other like a well oiled machine. Instinctively knowing where to be and when to attack. Back to back, fighting as one. The combined effect of his frozen attacks and her overwhelming assault keeping the rebels back. Soon enough, corpses began to gather at their feet, making the already precarious battle ground even more hazardous. The blood chilling scream of a wyvern was all the warning they had as the beast and its rider tried to crush them both, Hrid rolled right before the gaping maw of the beast, keeping at bay the beast with his sword. Laegjarn was already on the back of the beast, fighting the rider. The duo made quick work of their enemy, Hrid using the death of the rider to behead the beast in one swift movement.

Then, everything stopped.

There was no more war cry, only the sound of the dying inferno and their combined exausted painting. Hrid turned to Laegjarn, the ex-general stood atop the downed beast, her green hair matted with blood and ashes. Her horned helmet gave her a terrible aura of death, and chills ran down his spines when two fiery red orbs looked at him like he was the next on the list. The fury quickly disseapered however, as she looked at him for a long time. He must look terrible too, already knowing that his armor would need a good scrubbing after that.  
Their exhausted paintings was all that was disturbing the terrible silence, the heavy air was making everything seem distorted and he could still feel the tension running down his spine. It was not over, he knew that. Laegjarn jumped down the corpse and landed next to him, he nodded to her and she nodded back, the two of them already on their guard.

"Everyone be still! I want to see them."

The voice was... Not what he was expecting, feminine and young, not childlike (Nifl forbid) but not truly adult. Yet, there was an undeniable commanding edge in it. It was the voice of authority. It was the voice of the next to fall.  
There was the sound of heavy wings taking flight and the two of them braced themselves, slowly, almost like a wounded beast, the smoke began to lift. Coiling around them and the many corpses, slowly revealing the butchery at their feet. Dozens of soldiers dead or dying, weapons in hands. But this was not what was worrying the Prince, before them, at the edge of the carnage stood a little platoon of fresh soldiers, sporting the same armor as their fallen comrades. And at the head of the platoon stood the delicate form of a hooded figure with two impressive red wings sprouting out of her back. She looked like a young adult draped in heavy red colored robes charred at the edge. The girl put away the red stone floating before her as her wings began to fade away once the smoke was gone before taking off her hood. Her face would have been soft looking and almost strikingly beautiful if not for the heavy scarring on her face. An impressive number of cuts and closed wounds were covering her face like a grotesque painting. It was unsettling... Well. That, and the bloodthirsty grin on her face.

A manakete.  
Better and better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! It's been quite a while now, sorry for the delay I was busy with a lot of things, but expect more regular schedule for now!
> 
> I also been struggling with this chapter, but I hope it did well enough.


	14. Those with nothing left.

Manaketes were and always had been trouble simply for the fact that they were dragon with human intellect and the means to change the course of any battle. Due to their rarity, most armies only had two to three maneketes at best. But not Muspell, their manekete forces had been one of the greatest of all kingdoms. Unlike Embla and even Askr, the manakete of Muspell had not been summoned or bind to a contract, they were sons and daughters of warriors from the land of fire, supposed direct descendant of the Blood of the great Dragons of old. They had been trained and groomed to represent the ferocity of Muspell, and it was not rare to see one tore entire ranks of enemies. They were formidable foes, and something Laegjarn would have loved to avoid today. But the wyvern warrior was also surprised to see one standing before her, the defeat at the hand of the Order and Nifl had taken a terrible toll on their elite force. The best of their army had been killed during the final assault against Surtr and manakete became way more vulnerable when wielders of divine weapons came into play. The fact that one of them survived was impressive, if not bothersome.

The ex-general quickly asserted the situation, the manakete was also followed by three dozen of (visible) soldiers from all classes, even if the core of the platoon looked to be axe wieldier or swordsman. Their number was another grim new, and Laegjarn hoped that they had freed the prisoners, reinforcement would be appreciated even if she was not alone in this mess. Her gaze wandered to Hrid, silently catching his breath, he looked like... Impressive. Like all true warrior should be, still standing even after such violent bout. The fact that the two of them were standing side to side, covered in scrapes and bruises amused her somewhat, the bittersweet irony of having to take arms against people who had one day served her was mitigated by the fact that she was fighting with someone who truly had her back, and someone who had the same hateful gaze upon what those soldiers did. A kindred warrior. The situation was grim, yes, but with him? She was sure she could pull this through, he was the best soldier any general could ask for.

The manakete looked at the two of them with interest, before lingering her eyes upon the carnage around them, nodding to herself before saying:

"So, our returning general and the kingslayer. Yes, this will do nicely."

Laegjarn had no idea of what she was talking about, but the soldiers behind her seemed to agree. All seemed eager, gripping their weapons with barely restrained excitation. The Princess steadied her guard and came closer to Hrid, already prepared to vault above the wyvern corpse to have some cover. But the manakete was chatty, so this was something to exploit.

"And who are you?"

It was more than likely that all the soldiers here had been under her command at least one time before, she had fought on many fronts during her life and lead many of her countrymen to victory. She could see the flicker of recognition and respect in their eyes.

"My name is Rauðrdreka, General, I fought under your command during the attack on the castle of Nifl."

Her voice was calm, mesured and sharply contrasting with the blood craving smile on her face. She seemed happy, too happy and completly aware that she was standing ankle deep in the blood of fallen soldiers and slaughtered innocent.  
Laegjarn winced internally has she remembered the attack on the ice castle and the defeat and following scattering of the royal family, she heard Hrid's breath came short next to her and felt the temperature next to her dropping. She did not know this manakete directly, but a name like her was already telling enough. Rauðrdreka, or Red Dragon, not a real name but what she was. Sometime, when orphans joined the army had no name for themselve they were given their position has a way to call them. And after decades upon decades of war, orphans like her were not uncommon, she didn't bother to count how many Blárroða or Grønøx she encountered during her campaigns because they were too many to count. Generation of unnamed orphans recruited in the army in their early years to serve a little hands before becoming full trained soldiers. Such was the way of Muspell.

There had been a time where she felt pity for such orphans, desperate children pushed on the battlefield to early, twisted into perfect killing machines for the so called glory of Muspell. There had been a time when she felt jealousy, when she envied the fact that the only thing they had to care about was the next battle and the fact that they had no father that threaten to burn them for his amusement. But now? Now she was revulsed. She at least tried to cull the savagery on her battlefield, she won, imposed the law of Muspell on the defeated and went her way to the next battle, she never slaughtered innocent people before or after a fight. She never prepared bonfire and burned people at stake, she never attacked innocent if she was able to avoid it and she did it cleanly when her father was breathing upon her neck. She had been ruthless and effective, not... This.  
There was bloodlust in her eyes, a total disrespect for life? Only the thirst for war and pain, a need to see the world burn. Just like her father.

"You have lost your way then, I always forbade my soldiers to wallow in such savagery and needless slaughter, even more upon their own countryman."

For the first time, the smile on the face of the Manakete dropped a little. She seemed unhappy at the reminder, and simply scoffed.

"They were weak, we are strong. So they died, such is the law of Muspell, or did you forget already?"

The soldiers behind her cheered, approving the law of a dead madman like a dogma. Without question, without hesitation, without pity.

"Cowards."

The cheering stopped.

"How dare y..."

"Cowards."

Rauðrdreka's smile wavered, replaced by a snarl of fury.

"Be silent! We are..."

"Cowards!"

Laegjarn's voice carried upon them, asserting who she had been and who she was. Her red eyes were filled with a somber fury, something that had reduced grown men into a blubbering mess. Heat radiated from her armor, as the sheer outrage she felt needed a way out, she gripped her sword tighter, pointing the weapon at the manakete.

"As your ex-general, you disgust me. You are cowards, remnants of the worst era in Muspell, worthless bloodthisty dogs that we are going to put down for good."

There was a roar of outrage coming from the crowd and one literal roar coming from the manakete who looked at Laegjarn and Hrid with unbound fury.

"You choose to run away with those who took everything from Muspell! You failed your duty and disguised it at the honorific thing to do! You are weak, unworthy of the blood in your veins!"

"Good, this repulsing manchild has nothing to do with me, and only fools seek to be like this worthless monster."

"We will perpetuate the will of the Flames, we will die like warriors or burn this already rotten and unworthy kingdom to ashes! Fight us! Fight us all or perish like the traitor you are!"

"You know nothing of Fire, you mad dog! You know not how nothing is gained from it, nor the pain and suffering it causes. But I will grant you the death you seek, I just want to know why."

"Because there is nothing for us anymore. Not in a kingdom of peace. Not long ago we were the best of the best! We clawed our way to the top and we fought because it was everything we had! Surtr was perfect for us! We were made by War, made men by War, and by War will we be undone. We have no place in a weakling's future, so we decided to die like we lived or destroy Muspell with us. Now come on, General, grant us a battle worthy of the greatest legends!"

There was a blinding light of red as the manakete activated her dragonstone with a roar that made the ground tremble. Warriors were already charging them with hatred and fury deep in their eyes, passing by the now fully morphed dragon. Laegjarn inhaled one last time, closing the distance between her and Hrid to ease their mutual covers, she felt the gentle nudge the prince gave her as he prepared himself for another ruthless battle. Even now, wars had scarred everyone in this kingdom deeper than imagined.  
But, for the last time, war called for war and blood called for blood.  
It was a know call, and one she answered with ease.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Hrid braced himself for impact, lances of ice already forming to cull the coming wave of warriors, he would be lying if he said that if the previous exchange between Laegjarn and that manakete did not put oil on the fire, because his fatigue was already forgotten and he was ready to fight once more. Even if the odds were stacked against them, it was nothing different than the usual. The only difference was that he had Laegjarn at his sides and not against him, he liked this difference, it was maybe the only good thing coming from this whole mess.

The prince launched three spears on the coming soldiers and two more on the roaring manakete, not bothering to lose some precious seconds on knowing if his attack were effective he simply prepared more, ready to fight. The first soldier was already is axe when the first good news of the day made itself known by a arrow piercing the throat of the axeman in a clean shoot, followed by the deafening roar of thunder coming from Isthar's magic. The charging tide was then stopped by a duo of wyvern rider crashing into their flank. The reinforcement where in, and they were not alone. A battlecry was heard on the other and of the place, and a crowd of armed, malnourished and pissed villagers made itself know. Most of them and pickaxe, heavy looking mace and pitchfork. Men, women, even children, all of them were absolutely furious and charging behind Minerva and her wyvern with little to no fear.

Thing were looking good, well not good, but better.

Unfortunately, he made a mistake for someone who had experience in fighting manakete. In fact, he forgot rule number one.  
Never take your eyes off the manakete.

The roaring form of the dragon crashed into the duo, separating the two of them with her own body and forcing him to roll under and slash that would have cut him in half, armor or not. The manakete picked the corpse of the wyvern and tried to crush Laegjarn with it. Using the corpse as a makeshift weapon to avoid the maelstrom of flame the ex-general had become. He tried to stab the hind leg of the beast only to be stopped by its tail, parrying the appendage with his sword and grunting as he buckled under the weight of the attack. His feet were ankle deep into ashes and corpses, making his footing uncertain at best and precarious at worst, nonetheless the prince charged once more. Hoping to offer some breathing room to Laegjarn.

He lost himself in the battle once more, focusing only on the beast before him. His mind sharpened, forgetting the anger he felt toward the manakete. There was only the battlefield now, him, Laegjarn, and another enemy that needed to die. There was no hesitation even when he felt his tired arms nearly giving out as he stopped a massive claw coming his way, even when he could feel the abuse of his magic taking its toll on his body, the taste of blood in his mouth would not stop him, nothing will. Everything became blurry, the battlefield narrowing to the three of them, the sound of battle becoming muffled as his world became composed of three things. Him, Laegjarn, and someone that needed to die.

He could feel the blood rushing to his head, the heavy breathing of his lungs trying to fuel his effort with smoke filled air, the heat basking the battlefield when Laegjarn was near and when they danced together, there was nothing else when she was near. Heat, fury and passion. During this brief, intense instant, everything became her and him. Two parts of a whole. He felt alive, more than ever.

He saw Maelstrom, brave and courageous Maelstrom crashing on the back of the manakete who screamed in outrage before knocking the wyvern off. Laegjarn instantly rushed to the beast who lowered his neck to allow her mistress to take flight once more. The manakete saw this happening, and opened her maw to unleash her burning breath on the two of them.

Hrid would have none of that.

He dashed between the manakete and the wyvern rider, raising his sword with both hands in a defensive position, with the other hand directly applied on the blade. Then he pushed the magic outside his body, almost screaming as his mind and body twisted in agony and exhaustion before forming a whole shield of ice that meet the incoming fire in an explosion of steam and thawing ice. There was another roar of outrage as Laegjarn took flight above him, charging the dragon with a scream of her own. Hrid smiled, blood pooling out of his nose and eyes as his body began to break under the abuse, and took a exhausted step toward the fight.

He fell on his knee, surprised as why his legs refused to carry him once more, only to see that most of his body had become a charred mess barely held up by his armor blackened and twisted by the heat. He blinked once, then twice, his body not registering why the pain didn't came, before remembering that with burn that deep his nerves should be burnt to a crisp. His blackened legs finally gave out under him as he fell on his back, clutching his still intact sword with the reminder that it could not let it go. It was a very precious sword, one of the royal weapon of Nifl. Like the lance of her sister, he wondered if Fjorm would be happy with Kiran. Of course she was going to be happy, in fact, there was a little voice in his head that reminded him that everything would be alright. That Kiran would be able to resurrect him once he was gone, strange, that voice seemed familiar somehow, Gunthraa maybe? Yes, it must be her, she was often here to remind him of what he always forgot, it was nice to hear her.

He missed her.

There was silence all around him, maybe the battle stopped? Or maybe his ear had been damaged during the fight? Wait, no, there was a ringing sound, his ears and been damaged but it was also so calm. And the soil was so... dirty, hell, he would have a field day washing the blood off his hair. He hated doing that, because it meant that he had to kill to have blood on his hair. except when he received a blow on the head, but he hated it even more because it hurt.

Oh, and Laegjarn was here now.  
Hello Laegjarn.  
She was crying? Why was she crying? They had won, because of course they had won, they were Heroes after all. That's what Heroes did, they arrived and saved the day while doing Heroes stuff like fighting for their family, saving their future and washing the tears off the eyes of those precious to them.  
Laegjarn seemed like she needed a Hero right now. No, not a Heroes, a friend.

Hrid let go of his sword, slowly reaching out to cup the bloodied cheek of Laegjarn. He wondered how her eyes, once filled with fury, could hold such fear and pain. He disliked that, those eyes already saw too much pain, they deserved better. She deserved better, he wanted her to feel happy because she deserved it. In fact, she deserved the world, everything. Yes. That's what he was going to do, offer her the world, but after... After what? Right now he was tired. So tired. He should have a nap first, a comfortable nap.

Hrid felt something warm squeeze his hand, and he squeezed back.

"Your... Hands are so warm..."

Then there was darkness, but maybe it wasn't so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)


	15. Resolve.

Laegjarn looked at her trembling hand, watching the hand she had been holding turning into beads of light that dissipated within the smoke. She blinked, her own mind having trouble accepting what happened even if she knew that she witnessed the death of her best friend. Her legs gave out under her and she knelt in the already cooling ashes of the battlefield, she hugged herself, they had won. Their enemies were dead or dying, Hrid gave her the opening to finish the fight and now? Now he was gone, who knew for how long? She felt cold, so very, very cold, but not in the good way Hrid was cold. There was a creeping numbness that suffocated her, a hollowness that dulled her senses. She could feel the tears slowly rolling down her face, through the mud and blood, and yet she didn't cared.

She wanted to scream, to rage, but nothing came out. Why? Why did nothing came out? Rage should be easy, she was the daughter of a monster and a monster of her own. Rage should be coming easily for her, because she wanted nothing more than to destroy something, to burn, to cull away this horrible feeling that consumed her from the inside. She wanted to run away from this, from what she was feeling, she hurt like she never hurt before. Even her own death had not been so terrible. Why did it hurt this much? She was not unknown to loosing soldiers on the battlefield, it had been her lot for more than two decades. So why?

No, she knew why.

It was because Hrid never had been like the other soldiers, because he had been her best friend and confidant since her arrival in the Order. Because he gave her the hope that maybe, just maybe, there could be something more than war to her life and she allowed herself to believe it. She had been selfish with him, simply because she wanted more of what he made her feel. Safe, happy, warm. He was so much more than her brother in arms, much more than another worthy opponent. He had been the last person she saw and the first when she was summoned. He had been there to help her, in more way than one, and she knew that she had been there for him. His death, temporary or not, just shook her to the deepest part of her core. And it hurt enough that she wanted nothing more than to stay here forever.

But she could not. She viscerally needed something to do, something to let her focus, something to not let the dread set in. Because she also knew that all of this was her fault. She decided to rush into this battle, dooming Hrid to his terrible death. Laegjarn clutched her hand, the phantom sensation of Hird's palm still lingering on her skin, before slowly getting up. The setting battlefield around her was a mess of mangled bodies and burned corpses, the heavy cloud of bloodied ashes was like thousands of little needles puncturing the copious amount of wounds she received during the battle. Her armor was painfully pressing against her burns and she could hear her almost desperate breaths coming in and out in with difficulty. The wyvern rider slowly walked to the corpse of what had been the leader of the rebels and looked at her corpse with a renewed hatred that promptly crumbled on herself. She was too tired for that.

The mangled corpse of Rauðrdreka had turned back into her human form after her defeat. The manakete had willingly chosen to focus her fire on Hrid even after she saw the wyvern take flight. Laegjarn was sure that she knew that she was done for and that she wanted to take one of them with her. Unfortunately, she had succeeded. Laegjarn would have liked to feel some morbid satisfaction when she pulled her sword out of the neck of the manakete, put nothing came to her except that ever growing sensation of exhaustion. She cleaned her sword on the robe of the deceased and something caught her still tears filled eyes, inside the remnant of what had been the garment of the manakete was a small package of letters, most of them had been burned, but some were still mostly intact and, more importantly, readable.

With newfound energy, the ex-General quickly unpacked the bundles, letting the more burnt letters crumble in the wind and she began to read those that could still be read. Those... Those were orders, proofs pointing at the person who gathered the surviving soldiers still loyal to Surtr and gave them instructions and funds. Most of it was here, the initial plan to make Laevatein accept the challenge and lead her into them while the rest of them would be attacking the capital in order to take the throne back. Every single letter was supposed to be destroyed, because all of them had been signed under the same name.

Stólsettr, the Bishop of the religion worshipping the fire Dragon Muspell. The head of the church and the one who had validated this whole ordeal by accepting the claim of the rebels.

With rising dread, Laegjarn realised something that she should have seen coming sooner. This whole setup has been just a distraction to a bigger attack, one directly targeting her sister. The whole fight had been a prelude to something bigger than expected. And more importantly, that meant that the fight was not over. That meant that... Someone had been behind all this suffering, this pointless slaughter. With this? She had someone to direct her pain at, someone to take the blame, someone to help her forget what had been lost on a distraction. Someone who wanted to take everything from her once more. Someone who already took enough.

A small part of Laegjarn wondered why Rauðrdreka did not destroy the letters, but it was nothing but a breeze within the maelstrom of anger that began to overwhelm the wyvern rider. Gone was the exhaustion, replaced by a rising rage. She knew she should be better at controlling her emotions, but right now? She wanted nothing more than watch that damned priest suffer under her blade, she wanted to see the fear in his eyes when he understands that his life was forfeit.

For every innocent that had been slaughtered for his foolishness, for putting her sister in danger. And if she was honest with herself, for Hrid. But she was not, not right now, not when her bloodlust had been reignited. Not when she had something to focus on, something to make the pain tolerable. Whatever the price, she would have his head, even if that mean she had to die too.

The daughter of Surtr rose once more, the ash-filled air around her shimmer as her blood began to sing a song of violence and revenge. Sensing the wrath of her mistress, Maelstrom slowly made his way to her, grunting cautiously as Laegjarn hoped on his back and took flight, rising above the pool of ashe and blood that had became the town. Searching for the rest of the Heroes, the General began to plan once more.

That damned priest wanted fire? She would bring him fire.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Laegjarn woke up after some restless sleep on the back of Maelstrom, her exhausted body still aching from her fight some hour ago but the fire inside her was burning fiercer than before. She looked at the two other wyvern riders following her, Minverva and beruka were also sleeping on the back of their stead, travelling lightly to be quicker. After reuniting with the rest of the squadron and explaining the situation to them, she had decided to choose the two of them to accompany her back to capital for what would probably be another battle. It was just the three of them, Minverva had let Maria behind simply because she was the only healer that could help the injured people of the mining town, Cherche, Virion and Ishtar had stayed behind to help reorganise the town and make sure that no bandits would take advantage of the situation. The arrangement could be worse, but three exhausted wyvern riders were not a lot in term of reinforcement. Too bad, they will have to do. Once more, Laegjarn felt the painful sting of the absence of Hrid, but clentched her jaw and shrugged the pain off, focusing on the coming battle.

The General patted the back of her exhausted wyvern with worry, she could feel Maelstrom's exhaustion and gave him silence reassurance. Even if their wyvern had flown all afternoon after the battle she knew that their return to the capital would be quicker. They did not care about stealth or fallback point to regroup themselves, it was a straight and direct line to the objective made at moderate space. They only took some quick pauses when absolutely necessary, feeding them all the rations they did not leave for the villagers. It was a desperate call that strained their wyvern, but it was a desperate time. She was not faring better, even if Maria healed her of most of her injuries she was still exhausted from their last battle some hours ago, but she steeled herself and knew that it would not stop her. She would take that priest with her if necessary.

The capital was once more in sight and, like she dreaded, black smoke could be seen coming from behind the walls. There was not a guard patrolling the walkway, it was way too calm for a city in reconstruction or for any city altogether. Laegjarn whistled sharply, warning the two other warriors before making a combination of sign visible to the two of them to explain the plan. They would pass above the city and head straight to the castle, hoping to find a good way to land their tired steads without drawing fire. Laegjarn clutched the pommel of Níu, she wanted nothing more than to rip the priest apart and burn the remains, but she needed to think clearly. His death would come later, but today she had already lost Hrid, losing Laevatein was out of the question. She had failed once, she would not fail twice.

It was when the trio flew above the walls that what she feared came true.

They were too late, the aftermath of small skirmishes were lingering the streets. She could recognise the sign clearly, was it from the barricaded houses or the corpses in the streets, it was the proof that countless little fights broke out everywhere in the city, some bigger than others. But it did not look so grim, she could see guard roaming the streets with some Heroes, most of them were putting out the fire or helping people trapped behind rubbles. They had arrived after the fight, and yet, the atmosphere was still tense, heavy. Flying to the castle helped to put the pieces together, whatever happened it took place directly inside the castle. Dozens of corpses were laid on the pavements, with children scavenging the remains for steel to reforge or weapon to use. The gates were open and several soldiers were training the corpses of what seemed to be mercenaries and other armed men and woman outside. After making another round to make sure that everything was alright, the trio of wyvern rider finally landed near the stables. Laegjarn winced as she saw that some parts of the stables had been burned away, and that they were empty except for the three of them. Maelstrom quickly collapsed on himself, breathing heavily. Laegjarn was beginning to kneel next to him to make sure that he was not too heavily wounded when someone ran to them.

It was the pot wearing boy that usually was in charge of the stables wherever the Order was going, Donnel was it? She had nothing against him, especially when he was genuinely helpful to everyone. And yet, he looked terrible, his right arm was wrapped in a tight looking sling and he was using his lance as

"Everyone is in the throne room. Situ'tion got crazy. Ya should go."

He sounded exhausted and struggling to even stand, she nodded, her worries coming back stronger than ever. Whatever happened it had been swift and brutal enough to impact the whole capital. And made her way to the throne room followed by Minerva and Beruka. Laegjarn passed by more corpse and trace of battle, even fiercer than before, before entering throne room that had been turned into a makeshift infirmary. People, Heroes or soldiers alike, were put directly on the ground with exhausted clerics tending to their wounds. She saw Wrys and Elise almost sleepwalking from one bed to another, bloodied hands checking on the burns of unknown guards, and yet they had the same resolve as anyone else in the room. She could feel the gaze of those present upon her, some surprised, some hopeful.

At the end of the room, just before the throne, stood a heavy looking table where were gathered Kiran, the royal siblings of Askr, Fjorm, Commander Anna and Laevatein, all were somber and injured in so ways. Kiran had one nasty cut on one of his shoulders and was holding the good hand of Fjorm tightly, the other being wrapped in another makeshift sling. Alphonse was bandaged around his waist, probably for broken ribs while Sharena was visibly favouring her right leg. The blonde princess was still smiling sightly. Even when a bandage-wearing Anna was pouring over what seemed to be a map of the city. Laevatein was... The exception, her somber expression instantly lifted when she saw her, and a small smile appeared for a moment before crumbling away. Laegjarn and the two other wyvern riders made their way to the table, at the visible surprise of everyone.

Kiran smiled painfully at them and Fjorm carefully put her hand on his injured shoulder to ease the pain with some cold, he wordlessly thanked her before turning to the trio.

"Your rapports?"

"The whole thing was a trap set up by Stólsettr, the town was... Already burning when we arrived and the rebels were surviving forces still loyal to Surtr, lead by a manakete. We took care of them, but the thing was just a distraction for... What seemed to already have happened." She took the letter out of her armor and put them on the table. "We... I suffered a loss, Hrid died at the end of the battle."

She tried to settle her voice when she announced the new, but she heard her voice crack when she told them that Hrid had died. She looked at Fjrom, who clutched Kiran's hand tighter, before looking away in shame.

"Sister." Laevatein's voice was flat, just like she had been when she only lived to be a sword. "The castle was attacked during the night by the rebels, they came from inside and targeted everyone at the table, we got lucky because some servants managed to sound the alarm but they took a sizeable part of the guard and some Heroes before who managed to push them back, we continued to fight through the day in the city and managed to corner them into the church but... We are at a standstill since then."

"We have been too lenient" said Anna while massaging her bandaged head. "We didn't think that that kind of attack would take place here and we didn't prepare for this. We lost almost all of our healers and the majority of our flying units."

"Is lady Camilla alright?" Asked Beruka, it was the first time that Laegjarn heard genuine emotion in her voice.

"Unfortunately, she died during the first strike, she bough enough time for Elise to hide."

Beruka froze before clutching the handle of her axe hard enough to turn her knuckles white.

"Tell me where they are and they will be no more."

Anna nodded with gravity, before adding:

"Our forces are scarce while theirs are hiding behind one of the most defendable position in the city, we could swarm them but it will cost us a lot in term of lives and heroes. And before you ask, he rest is still in Askr because this was supposed to be a small diplomatic mission so we choose to not take our more... Volatible servant. An error we are dearly paying. Furthermore, the ritual to bring Heroes back had already been done to bring back our healer, but Breidablik is out of juice and I won't be able to revive more heroes before some time."

"Once more, I apologize for this whole mess, I didn't knew that the Presence of the Order would have such... Terrible repercussion for you and my people."

"There is nothing to blame, Queen Laevatein. This whole situation would have blown up sooner or later." Answered Alphonse, earning a couple of nods from around the table. "In fact, it's almost better that we're here. Because they're losing right now, we just need one final push."

"And... We do have a way to make them crumble, even more with the return of three wyverns. But it's not going to be easy."

Everyone looked back to Kiran, who was pondering on some plan of the church. The strategist pointed at the biggest stained glasses of the church, right above the entrance, tapping on it several times while in thought.

"I think our enemies knows that this is the weakest point in the defense, that's why they targeted the wyvern rider and the healer first. Those glasses would probably survive arrows and they can stop our magic with their wind tomes but... A trio of wyvern rushing to them could shatter the windows with ease and send their commandant in a panic, allowing us to capitalise on the opening and strike them down."

"It's a suicide mission."

Laegjarn didn't knew who said that before everyone looked straight at her. She almost winced, but steeled herself before looking straight at Kiran with fiery resolve.

"...Yes."

Beruka was the fastest to speak, simply planting one of her dagger into the table, straight through the tainted glasses on the map.

"I will eliminate them. With extreme prejudice."

Minverva was second, and even if her voice was not filled with venom like Beruka, she stood proudly and beaming with newfound resolve.

"This sniveling toad of a man will suffer our wrath, whatever the price."

"Thank you, I would never order you to do something against your will and..."

Laegjarn looked at the two wyvern riders at her side with newfound respect, before looking back to Kiran and Laevatein.

"This is beyond my duty, Kiran. They attacked my home, they attacked my sister. I had to watch my best friend die right into my arms because of some priest that want to bring back the worst part of our history back. My death is nothing if it allows me to put a definitive end to this mindless attack."

It was perfect. This was the occasion the ease the pain, to focus on something else, something urgent. It was a simple mission, with a simple goal. Go in and burn everything in a blaze of fire. She knew that Hrid would have done the same in this situation, she was... Not replaceable, but she could die. This was far more precious than anything on a battlefield, it would take time, it would be painful. But it was worth it. Everything was worth it if it allowed her to help Laevatein once more. The fact that she would have the occasion to crush the bastard behind Hrid's death was also something she longed for.

Well, everything would have been perfect, except for some thing that never change.

"Sister..."

Laegjarn looked at Laevatein with hesitation, the fire in her heart cooling down for the first time Hrid's death. The Queen slowly made her way around the table. She looked so tired, so hesitant, so... Little. Shaken to her core by the underserving bastard that wanted nothing more than to take everything from her, from them. She hated them, she hated them because the two of them had tasted happiness and they wanted to take that away from them. Laegjarn closed the distance between them and hugged her little sister tightly. Laevatein buried her head in the crook of her neck, returning the hug with fierceness.

"You know I'm coming back, whatever happen. You're more important now, you have a future to build, a kingdom to rule. For you, I will do this a thousand times."

"I know. I hate it."

"Did you use your sword? Did they make you break your oath?"

"No..."

"Then they did not beat you."

"And I did beat them. I could not let them wreak havoc in my home, so I took a staff and used it."

What had been encouraging words for her worried little sister died in her throat before turning into a small chuckle. She passed a hand through the soft hair of her little sister. She was going to die out there, everyone knew that, but... For the first time in her life, the idea of fighting and dying for Muspell was not looking so bad after all. She knew that Hrid would have done the same without hesitation, she was a hero now, part of a proud order who was ready to give everything to help those in need. She needed to take that mantle now. So, even when her heart wanted to scream in pain and sorrow, even with the rising dread of the fact she knew she would not see the end of today... She smiled. And it was a bright smile. One sincere, full of mirth and proudness.

"You are the greatest thing that happened to this kingdom since its creation. I love and believe you with all my heart, don't you ever forget that, Laev."

She kissed the forehead of her sister, of the Queen, of the most precious person in her life and comforted her when she began to cry in her arm. Like any hero would. Like any big sister would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick head up I'm unsure about my schedule for the coming weeks, new job and all, but I'll try to make time!
> 
> If you have something you want to say about this fic, say it! I'm still learning as a writer and this is my biggest project in english yet, so every comment help!


	16. Hero

Laegjarn was looking at the helmet in her hands.

The piece of armor has been smelt to mimic a dragon skull, fierce and proud It was made of a special alloy melted in the heart of the Castle, near the deepest pool of lava humanly bearable. It was there that Laevatein had been forged, it was there that Sinmara took its first swing, it was there that the legends were created. Infused with holy magma, the helmet seemed almost alive, grinning in vicious ferocity. It was a worn thing, a piece of armor that saw countless war without being cleaned or polished, something filled with history and power. A piece of what a warrior was, a piece of Muspell, a piece of her. It was the Laegjarn, 'Lover of Ill' in old Muspellian, it was what she had been supposed to become. A grinning monster in love with war and desolation, another tool for her father, it was what she had rejected in the past after nearly succumbing to it. Once, she had worn this helmet with pride and ferocity, something to hide behind when the battle was becoming too ruthless and the atrocities became countless. Without her sister, she would have become this monster, she had latched onto Laevatein like Laevatein had latched on her. For decades, they had been the sole respite for each other, the sole reason to endure and go on. She always had been a sister first, and a general second. So that's why the helmet had to disappear, to dull the warrior.

The helmet had been buried deep behind the wall of her chamber in the castle, she had been too weak to wear it again and to weak to throw it away, and now it was facing her, taunting, laughing. But this time... It was different.  
This time, she knew with certitude that she was going to fight and die out there. It filled her with... Apprehension, gut wrenching fear and... Pride. Because this time, she was going to die with a real purpose, like she did before.  
She was going to die to protect her sister, her country. She was going to die in the name of a better future, a better kingdom, and more importantly, a better life for Laevatein. It was something she accepted, it was something she wanted, it was more than she deserved. If the monster needed to go out for one last time, then let him fight for something worth. It always had sounded quite cliché in her head, living and dying for something feeble and uncertain like hope, but now she could understand... How intoxicating it was.

Almost with melancholy, the General rubbed her thumb along one of the wings of the helmet, dusting the piece of armor in contemplation, just enough to see her reflection on the helmet.  
Who was she?  
A sister, a warrior, a princess, a wyvern rider, a fallen monster. The Sheathed Steel that prepared to be drawn once more, fury incarnate released on the unworthy. On those who dared harm her sister. She was grieving the lost of a dear friend, the ache still pulsing deep within her chest. She was serene, finding peace in knowing that restless sleep would wait her at the end of the day, and yet she was afraid for the same reason. No one, even a monster, could look right into herself knowing that death awaited and face it all without fear. But it was alright, fear had been a part of her life since the beginning. Fear of being burned alive, fear of losing Laevatein, fear of living in life of war and strife.

She accepted that, it was a part of her.  
And yet, she knew that something was missing, something new, something fresh, something raw and slowly taking root deep within her core. A newfound strength, a newfound purpose, something that dulled her old pain and warmed her tired heart. she could sense it, she could taste it in the way her heart beat faster every time she neared this feeling. In the way the strange yet comfortable warmth spread across her face before blooming into a blush. She was living it, in the way her emotions, her being, became sharper, more alive, colorful, something that made every fiber of her being shiver in delight. A smile for a smile, a laugh for a laugh, the dream of a cold and reassuring embrace.

She knew what it was, she understood what it was.  
And yet, she couldn't accept it. Because she did not deserve to taste happiness after making the other suffer so much. Because it would be unfair for those she slew. her life had been one filled with misery and hate, so misery and hate would be what she chooses to live. It was her choice, it was alright. Because, at the end of the day, Laegjarn was a winless General.  
Every single one of her victories had come with a price.  
Why did it have to be this way? Why? Why her victories were the creation of lost, dead, and orphaned children? Why her victories were the result of blackened skies and reddened fields? All this for victory. Yeah, she had won wars. But she would not call them victories.

She looked at the helmet, the symbol all of those pyrrhic victories, and nodded to herself.  
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, accepting to become the General once more, accepting to let the monster out.

"Today... Today is going to be my first real victory."

Today, she had nothing to lose and everything to gain.  
Today, she was going to die victorious.  
Today, she was going to die as a Hero.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

It was peaceful above.

It always had been, long above the scorched earth and the war. She had once dreamed of flying away with Laevatein, fly above the horizon and beyond. Fly until the sky became blue once more. Fly and dream. Dream of being with her sister, living a peaceful life away from everything. Just the two of them. Carried by the strong wings of Maelstrom, away from their father, away from their destiny, away from all the blood and fire. Away from the tears, the fear. Away from this wasteland.

The kingdom of Muspell was at war, once more. Heavy pillars of smoke were still going strong even when the people were trying to pull out the fire. She was not moved by this scene, simply because everyone in Muspell knew that fire and death take you in the blink of the eyes, and right now she hoped that her enemy would be blinking.  
A blink, it was the simplest thing. It would be enough enough.

The heavy air of the evening sky was an old friend, it was not cold, but heavy and charged with the scent of fire and death. Like everything she ever knew. Maybe it was why she wanted to have him around, because he smelled like fresh snow and brighter days.

The warrior closed the visor of her helmet, the dragon jaw engulfing her head.  
She looked at the furious assassin to her right, ready to coil and strike with unbound rage and fury. Fighting to avenge the one she had failed.  
She looked at the proud dragoon to her left, stern and focused in her wrath, mighty and unshakable in her strike. Fighting to protect what needed to be protected.

The three of them knew what would happen, and yet, they did not hesitate.  
Green, red and black wings shifted. Closing. And the trio began to fall. In a mad rush of adrenaline, the three of them pierced the cloud line like a meteor. The church was near enough that she had the time to catch the eyes of one of the archers widened as they appeared. She ignored him, she ignored the alarm that just rang, she ignored her racing heart and focused on what was necessary.

The trio of wyvern rider braced themselves, and the course of the war shifted.  
They shattered the tainted glasses like it was not even there, pulverising the relic without care or hesitation.

They heard like it was noise of thunder, one of their own saying come and they saw, and behold a black wyvern.  
And her name that sat on him was Death and Hell followed with her.

The three beasts didn't slow down, a whirlwind of death and fire assaulted them with the unbound fury of their souls. They did not scream as they charged, precise, deadly, unstoppable. Capitalizing on every second of surprise and fear they created. They were the tempest, the whirlwind, the maelstrom. War incarnates. The rebels began to shout, to fight back, magic began to flew around in blind panic. It was a melee without order or sense, a little chaotic piece of time where everyone was nothing else except for a man and his weapons. History was forgotten, plans were thrown out of the windows, it was a question of survival. Except that three of them didn't cared for they lives.

They had a mission.

The Assassin was the first one to fall. A lucky arrow caught her in the arm, shattering her elbows. She stopped moving during a single second, at it was enough for her wyvern to be buried under a myriad of arrows. She didn't stop here, she could not stop here, fueled by the raging tempest inside her. She continued alone, falling down in the battle and striking, cutting. Each cut was fatal, cutting head, piercing hearts. Her single good arm was enough to create a pool of blood at her feet. She broke her weapon against an armored knight, only threw herself against the heavy door protecting the entrance. Immediately, she was swarmed, stabbed and bludgeoned, cut by magic and might.  
She did not budge, even when her body was covered in weapons, broke. She did not smile in the face of death, instead, she spat on her.  
The explosive she had hidden inside her armor ignited and engulfed everything around her in inferno. backed up to the door, the explosion made wood and steel crack and splinter. The last line of defense of the rebels cleaved, but did not break.

Beruka died in a blaze of fire. And for the first time in their life, rebels learned to fear the inferno.

The Dragoon followed soon after, shielding the Warrior with her weapon, her mount and her body. Fighting against the tides of struggling rebels and creating an unbreakable defense for the Warrior. Protecting her when she was destroying the door strike by strike. The Dragoon knew that every second counted and that one was all it took to make them win, so she gave them hell for every second possible. Her wyvern died fighting and bitting, her weapon was broken on the tides of desperate beasts coming their way, her body became the last rampart. Blocking another strike, another arrow, another spell. One more, and one more, until she was nothing more than a unmoving mess barely contained in a blackened armor. And yet, she was still standing, still defiant, her gaze alone was enough to make them cower in fear, if only for one more second.

Minerva died on her feet, unmoving and unbroken, and the rebels faltered.

The Warrior did not cry for the death of her two friends, she did not even acknowledge the sacrifice of the Assassin and the pain of the Dragoon. She was not human anymore, only a tool that needed to achieve one last mission. And this mission was sacred, one she could not fail. So she pushed, even when her wyvern protected her with his life, dying under the arrows and blades of the rebels. Her flesh burned, her mind burned, everything around her and everything that was her burned. Her blade continued to cut deep in the door, burning the wood and melting the steel. The spells that tried to reach her fizzled simply because the air around her was hot enough to distort magic itself. It was a fire unlike anything saw before, deeper than Surtr's flame, brighter than the sun, hotter than magma itself.  
And yet, it was not enough. The Warrior was to slow, she already had burned everything around her and more, but it wasn't going fast enough. She needed more. She needed more!  
The Warrior looked deep within and realised there was still one piece of fuel to burn. For Muspell, for a better tomorrow, for her sister.  
Her blood singed and she began to scream in agony, the power of Muspell coursing through her veins once more. Every strike was making the ground tremble in fear, she could feel the fury of a volcanic eruption, she was the maelstrom, the rage and the flame. During this single instant, she was everything.

And the door exploded into blackened shards.

She saw the sun, and the blond hair of a Princess with bright blue eyes leading the charge armed with a lance of ice, she felt her blackened body crumble in ashe for the second time and smiled.

Laegjarn died winning, smiling, and the rebels knew defeat at the hands of all the one they had wronged.  
Her last thought was to notice that dying without holding his hand felt terrible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of nostalgia came to me today, and I turned it into writing fuel, it feels bittersweet. So, a shorter chapter than usual, but one that I wrote with my guts more than my head, it's a rather strange one.


	17. Life from the ashes

When Hrid woke up, he felt.... Rather fine. He always had expected that returning to consciousness would be a slow and exucriating process that would have tired him out but... There was no soreness or feeling of panic, in fact, the prince felt rather comfortable. Hrid could recognise the softness of a good bed when he felt one. The only thing bothering him what that the air was terribly hot, so he was probably back in Muspell's castle. Knowing that he was safe, he allowed himself some time to gather his thought.

He remembered... Well, he remembered Laegjarn first, the sensation of her hand still engraved in his mind, pushing the pain and the gut wrenching terror away. Hrid winced, hoping that his friend was safe and sound while he was feeling awful for letting her finish this fight without him, especially when she had looked so... Devastated. Then the prince remembered how he had burned and his dread doubled. He had willingly put himself between his friend and what would have been a fatal blow. He died to protect her, and if he was honest with himself, it was the worst thing to do to a friend. Hrid knew that he would have never forgiven himself if Laegjarn died doing the same for him... And he had imposed this burden on her, what at good friend he was.

Did he regret it? Yes, at least a little. But not entirely, while he was ashamed to have burdened Laegjarn like this he knew that he acted on instinct because... Because the fear of seeing her died again had gripped his adrenaline fueled mind. he had acted on instinct, and his instincts had decided that her well being was more important than him. He should have been worried or surprised by this fact, but he simply accepted it for what it was. The true. Hrid moved out of the cover and sat on the edge of the bed, deep in thought. laegjarn became... Important to him. More than he ever expected and perhaps more than he was willing to admit, but there was no denying it. There was something important between them. Something new and... A little intimidating. This feeling snuck past the idea of simple friendship by using every little moment they had together. It crystallized when the thought of seeing her fading at his sides filled him with gut-wrenching dread. It slapped him in the face when he remembered that his last thoughts while dying where for her and no one else. There was a bond between them. And now that he realised this... It would always be in the back of his mind.

What could he call it? No, he should keep his head and heart cool. He needed to think about this. How did he truly view Laegjarn?

He liked that she was strong, fierce and loyal. Someone he would trust with his life to hell and back. A pillar of stability since his summoning. He liked her sharp mind, how she seemed to have him figured out, how they moved as one on the battlefield. How he felt invigorated when she was near him, like a warm fireplace in winter. She was fire incarnate, but not the one that brought death and pain, she never had been. She was the gentle flame that soothed his heart and mind. The prince thought back to the night before the battle, how warm her hands had been between his, like fueled by an inner flame that drew him to her. Someone he wanted at his side in battle or not, someone that he wanted to past the day, to train or to talk. He liked how her kindness, buried like a treasure behind her cold facade, managed to shine through her hardship. She was someone who had the strength to smile even in the worst situation, someone with a kind soul and a kind smile. And what a smile it was, enough to make his heart flutter even now. He liked when her eyes, usually so dark and serious, would twinkle in joy when she was happy... He could simply lose himself in those deep crimson eyes of her. His mind raced back at when she took him to fly with her, and how the light played on her delicate face. How breathtaking she had been, how breathtaking she was.  
He wanted to make her forget her terrible year, to let her catch up on all the happy memories and feelings that had been stolen from her.  
He wanted more than to make sure that she was alright now, he wanted to make her happy. Because her happiness was more important to him than anything in the world.

Hrid found himself blushing madly and he realised with rising panic what he was feeling for her.  
Oh. Oh dear.  
This complicated... Everything.

He exhaled loudly and shook his head while trying to calm his beating heart, his eyes wandered around the room and he saw that his armor was neatly organised on a rack in a corner of the room with his sword. He went up and slowly walked to it. His armor was intact, there was no burned parts or traces of ashes. The prince put his hand on the cauldron, feeling the familiar feeling of cold under his fingers, before sighing. He grabbed the armor and began to put it with ease honed by years of practise, this armor was like a part of home away from home. Something that helped clear his mind and... He needed that right now.

He was scared for Laegjarn, even when he knew that she was strong enough to win any kind of battle he could not help it. Hrid also dreaded the fact that had to explain himself on why he put himself between the manakete and her. Oh, and he would have to apologise a thousand times to her, it would be the first thing to do when they meet again. His guilt for letting her alone in this battle would not leave him, even more now that he understood why everything was different when she was here.

Hrid was pulled out of his thought when the door slowly opened to reveal Fjorm, his sister looked... Tired. The signs were subtle but they were here, furthermore she seemed to have some bruise on one of her arms and she was walking around with her lance ready to be used. Her foggy eyes instantly brightened when she saw him, and a smile he hasn't seen since a while welcomed him back. Her sister closed the distance between them and engulfed him into a tight hug that he returned with the same eagerness. Worry filled with anger began to rise in his chest as her sister broke the hug, seemingly relieved. He knew that the situation was not urgent and yet he did not manage to contain some of his worry:

"What happened? How long was I out? Is everyone alright?"

Fjorm sighed while rubbing her bruised arm, her newfound happiness dimming a little, and Hrid knew that it was something bad happened.

"Your mission with Laegjarn was... Was a trap. The castle was attacked by the head priest during a coup, we managed to win but... Well, follow me."

Hrid blinked, surprised and a little outraged. He followed behind his sister and what he was going to ask died on his lips as soon as he went out of his room. The hallway gave a view of one of the smaller court of the castle. Well, court was not really applicable right now, dozens of tents were neatly arranged, each one of them containing what looked to be entire families huddled together. Refugees? Did he really had been tricked to pass the whole fight on the wrong battlefield? Did Laegjarn and him had been led into a distraction? He grinded his teeth together, unhappy with the fact that they had been played.  
However, everything was not looking dark, every family seemed in good health and he could see that everyone was installing a large table between the tent while the delicious scent of a roasting pig began to fill his nose, making his stomach grumble. They were smiling, tired and lost, but smiling.

"It's been a week since your... Your battle. Laev is doing her best to rebuild as fast as possible, but she'll explain the situation better than I."

Laev? Something had definitely changed while he was out. Well, of course something had changed, her sister had been knee deep into another battle while he had been away. Hrid sighed, but nodded nonetheless before continuing to follow her sister.

"But are you alright?"

Fjorm stopped, before turning to watch him with a somewhat tired smile.

"I'm exhausted, but it's because I was worried about you and Kiran." At his panicked glare, she quickly said. "He's fine! He just took a nasty cut during the attack and he's exhausted because he passed the past week summoning or reviving Heroes to help around, but otherwise everything is looking better, don't worry. But let's not delve on that, we must be hungry and I was just checking if you were awake to join us for dinner."

He was not satisfied, but he had to admit that the scent of roasting meat made him remember that he was terribly hungry, not enough to put his worry away but he would be easier to discuss everything around a solid meal. Fjrom lead him into another corridor and into a smaller room. The prince was curious has why they were not having a meal in the throne room as usual, but he refrained to ask the question when the answer was apparent when he passed through the door. It was a far more private room, one only big enough for some handpicked people all sat around an old looking table. Those people were those who leaded the Order, all talking between them and Queen Laevatein, who was at the end of the small table. The Askrian's siblings looked better than Fjorm, even if Alphonse, Shareena and Anna seemed in a bad mood for unknown reasons. Kiran was still nursing a heavy bandage on one of his shoulders, visible even under his heavy coat, but the summoner looked unaffected by the sour mood of his friends. More focused on his spoon and on the frugal meal before them. Because there was no meat on the table, just some kind of frugal broth made of a little of everything. It seemed to be a small meal in sharp contrast to what the refugee where eating. Nonetheless, Queen Laevatein seemed to eat it without discomfort. Hrid quickly put two and two together and smiled a little when he understood that the pig that could be on that table had been given to those who truly needed it. The table looked at them, and the bad mood seemed to vanish, Hrid passed a hand through his hair before smiling back before pulling a chair for himself in front of Kiran who nodded before saying.

"Hrid! Glad to have you back, and don't worry, I'll revive Laegjarn as soon as we are back in Askr!"

Hrid froze, and everyone in the room did the same. Except for Kiran who stopped eating with his spoon mid air and let out of soft 'shiiiit' through his teeth. Followed by an heavy sigh coming from Alphonse and a heavier glare coming from Fjorm, Kiran shrunk his head between his shoulders.

"What did you just say?"

Something.... Ugly passed on the face of Hrid as rage and bitterness rushed to his head, but beyond that he resented that fact that... He was hopeless, there was nothing he could do now, the battle was over, the coup was over, they had won. But Hrid certainly didn't feet like it was a victory. He grinded his teeth, the temperature around him slowly fading as he struggled to express how deep this new had cut into him.

"He said that my sister died during the coup."

Hrid looked at Laevatein who did not blink under his furious eyes, the Prince took a deep breath while the Queen continued to eat her broth, not bothered. Hrid wanted to know how she could be so calm when her sister died once more, she should be blaming him for not being here to protect her. He was blaming himself. Laegjarn had died again, and even if he knew she would come back, this simple fact cut deeper than any other wound he received. She didn't deserve this!  
The splintering sound of broken wood suddenly broke the silence, and Hrid saw Laevatein trembling hand holding what had been her spoon. He truly looked at her in the eyes for the first time since his revival, and he flinched before the inferno he saw dwelling deep within the eyes of the Queen. She was not calm... She was rage incarnate.

"You're furious."

"Indeed I am, Hird. I'm furious, but those who did this are dead, imprisoned or banned. Going further would create needless violence when my kingdom needs direction more than ever. The rebellion had been crushed, the coup had been stopped, now I need to focus on what is waiting for Muspell."

"... I'm sorry."

"And you are forgiven. Now sat with us and listen to the whole story."

He nodded and shut himself up while Laevatein told him how Laegjarn died in the suicide mission to take the last bastion of the rebels. He stayed silent when she explained how the aftermath had been handled, How the headpriest had died during the battle and how they had punished the surviving member of the rebels to exile or imprisonnement. There had no executions by direct order of the Queen, and even then, the surviving member of the rebels were not enough to be a threat to Muspell, not when the whole populace knew their names and face. The Queen and the Order managed to turn the whole mess in their favour by using the strenght and the kindness of the Heroes to strengthen the position of Laevatein as a new kind of ruler, one strong by her choice to be better than those who wanted to hurt her. The fact that Fjorm, a princess of Nifl, stormed the rebels leading the Muspellian with the Heroes managed to convince even the most reticent warrior to the fact that there was something to be gained by banding together.  
Hrid also learned that King Gustav ordered Alphonse and the Order to come back to Askr as soon as possible in a less than polite letter, explaining the bad mood when he entered.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, this... Was a mess. He knew that, everyone knew that.  
They both died during this was, he decided to sacrifice himself to save her, and she chooses to give everything for her sister and kingdom once more. Those were noble deaths, brave deaths, and yet he despised the fact that he hadn't been here to fight at Laegjarn's side to the bitter end. For the first time in a while, his victory tasted bittersweet. Yes, they had won, yes, Muspell would grow stronger from this trial and yes, the Order and Fjorm fighting for the Muspellian may have given them the last proof they needed to begin to embrace the fact that their neighbour could be more than people to invade... But the price had been countless live lost, both in the Order and in the population and even more chaos in the country.

The atmosphere around the table was... Somber. Laevatein calmly finished to take the splinters in her hand without flinching before looking at the table once more.

"Nonetheless, I invited all of you for this last meal in private for a reason. I already thanked you publicly for your courage and action, but there is one thing I withheld from all of you since the beginning."

Queen Laevatein pulled what seemed to be stack of envelopes, they're written on what seemed to be an expensive paper, strong enough to withhold the temperature of the kingdom. But what caught the eyes of Hrid was the fact that each and every one of them was marked with the royal seal of Nilf.

"Those... Are from Nilf." remarked Fjorm, curious, like everyone in the room.

"Indeed, they are written by your brother,. Since my first month as a Queen he has been... tutoring me, for lack of a better word. He helped me stabilise the power vacuum and organise the rebuilding. He also helped redressing the economy by cutting the price of everything coming from Nifl by half." Anna suddenly began to choke on her soup. "Without him, my reign would have ended long ago. By my own inexperience or by the hand of my enemies."

"That's very kind of him, but... I suppose Hrid must ask something in return."

"Nothing in fact, he wants to strengthen the bonds between our two kingdoms. He even returned everything I sent to Nifl without hesitation. Except when I said it was a gift."

"No... There must be something else, I... No offense Hrid." said Alphonse. Hrid told him to continue with a shrug, trying to understand what the goal of... The other him was. "But this seem excessive, even someone as kind as him."

"There absolutely is something else. Our common objective is to join Muspell and Nifl by alliance in a decade or so."

There was the sound of broken glass, a small 'eeep' of surprise that came from someone in the room (Fjorm would deny that it was him) and the silence became deafening once more, but for totally different reasons. Hrid nodded to himself, glad he already was sitting down, his mind still struggling to digest the new. Fjorm looked at him, he looked at Fjorm. His sister's face seemed to pass through a whole rainbow of expression before settling on shock, yes, shock was appropriate.

"And you say I have a bad sense of timing."

"Not now, Kiran." said Alphonse, rubbing the brink of his nose.

"Sharenna you need to marry Hrid." said Anna with her eyes already full of money.

"What!?"

"BY HALF SHARENA, DIDN'T YOU HEAR WHAT SHE JUST SAID?! BY HALF!"

"I'm still right there, Commander." said Laevatein with a smile and an honest to god smile on her face.

Too bad shock wasn't what he was feeling right now.  
Hrid began to smile, then chuckle, before erupting into full blown laughter. Everyone looked at him strangely before joining him with a smile or a chuckle, except his sister who continued to be frozen solid.  
The Prince... Well, not really 'prince' anymore, the other Hrid was already more royal that he would ever be... But he knew that this crazy project would be near impossible and would change the delicate balance between all kingdoms forever. And yet, he knew that was possible, he trusted himself and Laevatein. They had time now, time to build something that would transcend the hate and war, something that would shape a better future for the two of them. Maybe they paid the price during this coup, but... It could be another step in that direction. The union of two kingdoms, two former ennemies... It was crazy enough that it could just work.  
Or at least, it was a goal worthy enough to fight for.


	18. I meet you, and then the story begin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I would like to thank you for the 2000 views and nearly 50 kudos! I know it's not a lot but it's way more than I expected for this little project of mine, so thank you!

Laegjarn was at peace, blissfully unaware of everything around her. She just enjoyed this fleeting moment of nothingness, cuddling with what seemed to be the warm cover of a comfortable bed. There was no fire here, no pain, no heat, nothing except for her and the fact that she just wanted five more minutes to herself. Just for once in her life. Surely Laevatein could wait five more minutes? Of course she could, they're all grown up now. A fierce queen, already thousand times better than Surtr, one who will lead Muspell to what the kingdom should always have been, a place where life could flourish and stand tall for the good reasons. She was so proud of her sister, so proud of what she had become. She would have loved to be hers at her sides, but there was nothing she could do now. As a sister, she had willingly given her life to save her, and the fact that Laevatein had been strong enough to move forward with the weight of the kingdom on her shoulders proved that she always had been the better of the two. Well, she supposed that Hrid played an important part on this journey. Hrid. What a strange man. What a strange prince. What a strange friend. Well, the fact that they were friend was already strange enough, she died by his hands after all. Those kinds of thing usually... Tarnished even the slightest chance at friendship, but here they were. The eldest royals of two kingdoms that just ended their war, fighting hand in hand. She cherished the chance she had to meet him, for his kindness was the freshest thing in her life. He was too kind, even, throwing himself like that in front of her. What a fool. She would give him a piece of her mind later. Because right now... Everything could wait a little more.

The sound of the soft rain outside pulled her out of her... Dream? Trance? Laegjarn didn't know, but there was harder ways to wake up. She rose, keeping the cover on her body because the air was chilly even when she was dressed in a practical yet comfortable tunic with matching pants. It was dark except for the light of the moon passing through her window and the smouldering ashes of a dying fire in the fireplace, the night was nearly silent, but in a comfortable way. She knew that she was not in Muspell anymore, she should be back in Askr, in her room. She simply closed her eyes and stretched, she enjoyed the fact that she was back in the land of the living but she would have liked to say goodbye to Laevatein. She knew that there would be other occasions, but she would have liked to help her sister after the battle. And what a battle it had been, she never has been so focused in her life. Maybe it was the fact that this battle had been the first she willingly took, or because what hanged in the balance was far more important than some madman's ego. She... Knew that Hrid's death had also fueled the fire inside her.

She suddenly froze, simply because she realised that she was not alone in the room.

Sleeping soundly on a chair next to the bed was Hrid, she felt her heart dash and she recoiled in surprise. He was here, looking so... Peaceful. So serene. He was alive and well, and she felt a tingle of joy when she realised that. He was back. Safe and sound, out of his armor. He was... Also sleeping in her room. Laegjarn blushed at the thought, but didn't mind so much, she knew that he was here because he probably had been worried about her. It warmed her heart that someone as kind as him could worry for someone like her. She rose up, quitting the comfort of her bed, and slowly walked to her sleeping friend, shivering a little when her feet touched the cold floor. She looked at the sleeping prince with interest and curiosity. Here, he was so different from the proud warrior that gave his life for her on the battlefield, the simple view of the blissfully sleeping prince was... Soothing. Appeasing. Too bad it couldn't last forever.

The prince took a sharp breath and began to blink, slowly emerged of his sleep, stretching to push the sleep out of his body, he looked around and his face lit up when he saw her. Hrid got up, smiling brightly, and his reaction sent shiver down the spine of Laegjarn. He was happy, truly happy to see her back. She could count the number of people who were happy to see her on one hand. He passed a hand through his hair and came nearer, still eager and bright. Too bright.

"Laegjarn! You're back, I'm glad to see you are fine. I missed you."

She had missed him too. More than she could confess. But her voice was caught inside her throat. He looked so happy, so willing to invite her into his happiness. So eager to be here for her.  
She... She couldn't accept that.

"You missed so much! We should talk about it later. Just the... Just the two of us. If you're willing?"

He looked like a stumbling fool, he looked adorable, she loved when he looked adorable. She knew why.

She wanted him, she wanted his kindness, his smile, for her and her only. She wanted him to say that everything would be fine when all hope was lost, she wanted his cold embrace every night. It was the first time that she desired someone, something, anything so strongly. He tasted of dreams and freedom, of lost happiness found again. He was the end of her fire, the end of her pain, the soothing balm she had needed for so long. He was just here, within reach, the loveable fool, one willing to give everything for her even when she didn't deserved it.

So she would refuse him.

She didn't deserve happiness. Not after everything she had done.... She... She refused to be happy when hundred suffered because of her. She refused to be happy when she had torn so many families apart, by her hands or her troops, it was the same. She was a bad person, no amount of sacrifice would ever change that, it was just enough to alleviate the guilt. If she suffered, then she could make amends, just a little. even if it cost her her best friend.

"Hrid..." Her voice was nothing except a whisper. "You... Stop. Just Stop. Please."

Hrid stopped net and flash of pain passed on his face. She felt her heart turn to dust, it was like he received a punch in the guts, and she hated herself for doing that to him. Good, it was better this way, he deserved better than her. Such kindness should not be wasted on her, he was too bright to love someone like her, she was already glad to be his friend, but she couldn't allow to be more than that. Monsters were destined to be left alone, such was her punishment. Hrid stumbled back a little, passing a hand through his hair before taking a deep breath. He nodded, and then nodded gain.

"I... Yes. Sorry Laegjarn."

He was hurt, she could see that, she hated that.  
And then he had the sheer audacity to smile at her.  
It was a pained smile, one that would be dropped as soon as possible, but a smile nonetheless. He tried to mask his pain, he tried to look like everything was alright. Like he was not devastated. He smiled at her, and only at her, and she hated the fact that she was the cause of his pain. she was lost, she didn't knew what to do. No one should be smiling at her, how could he smile at her?! He needed to go, she needed to be away from that damned smile. She needed to be away from such promise of happiness.

"Get out, please."

"I... I'll see you tomorrow."

He smiled one last time, and she could see his eyes water a little. She struggled to not do the same, she needed to hold it together, or he would break through and she would be lost. He would get too close, he would try his best to reassure her. He would use that kindness of him and try to help her and pushing him back would become even harder.

She deserved to suffer, but he did not. He needed to understand that it was no his fault. She already hurt him enough, she hated that she needed to push him away, but he deserved to know that he had nothing to do with that.

"It's not you.. I... I just don't deserve to be happy, and your love would be wasted on a monster like me."

She nearly ushered the last words, like a death sentence. And closed the door.  
There, it was done, it was over. It was she deserved, nothing more than a cold bed and regrets of what she had done.

The door suddenly blocked just before closing, and she looked up to see Hrid looking straight at her.  
The icy eyes of Hrid became a maelstrom of emotion, almost electric in their intensity, she took a step back by pure instinct as his eyes focused on her. She didn't what was in those eyes, but their intensity was enough to make her heart and mind go wild, she couldn't understand what was in his mind, what was in his eyes. It was so intense, so deep, so unknown that she was feeling crushed by this glare.

"I must have misheard you, Laegjarn, I hope I misheard you."

His voice was soft, and that terrified her. There was no outrage, no shouting, he came back into her room and gently closed the door behind him. He was calm, too calm, the total opposite of her father when he was furious. And yet, she was more terrified of Hird right now. Surtr was predictable, easy to read, she know what was going to happen, but with him? She didn't knew anything, she was scared, she was hurt, she was hesitant, anxious, panicked and overwhelmed. She couldn't figure what was going on with him, he should be furious, he must be furious. That was the only logical reaction to what happened. He was furious like everyone else.

Hrid simply smiled.  
And that terrified more than anything her father ever did.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Hrid was worried for Laegjarn.

There was anger, no rage, no outrage. His eyes and heart were filled with genuine worry for his best friend. He accepted his rejection, yes it hurt, but it was probably his fault for not restraining his feelings. He should have waited longer, or just talked about it in the morning... But what stopped him dead in his track was the fact that Laegjarn... Was not alright. It ran deeper than some guilt for pushing him out, her pain was rooted deeper in her heart.. He could not let her say something like that, not when she was an Hero, not when she was her friend.  
She looked terrified, like she was ready to crumble in the winds, he never saw such fear in her eyes, not even when she had been dying in his arms. Did... Did he scare her that much? But why?! What did he do to terrify her like that? Was it because he died to save her? She was panicked, she was trembling like a leaf. Was she sick? Did the revival ritual messed something up?  
Laegjarn stumbled back when he approached, he gently put his hand up to make her understand that there was nothing to be afraid of. She was almost having a panic attack, and the sight looked so foreign to him. She was one of the strongest people he knew, always proud and efficient, in control. And now she looked overwhelmed by her own emotion.

"Laegjarn. Calm down. Breathe. Tell me what is wrong. Should I get a healer? Something to drink?"

"You... You're not angry?"

He blinked, brown forrowing, and took one more step.

"Why should I be? I'm worried for you, Laegjarn, you look like something is tearing you apart."

With trembling lips, she looked away, and he took one more step, closing the distance between the two of them.

"It's alright, you've won the war. Your sister is safe, Muspell is safe. You're fine now. Breathe. Talk to me. What's wrong?"

"You're... You're making this difficult."

"What am I making difficult?"

"You! You keep making me happy when you should not! Because... Because I don't deserve your friendship, I don't deserve your love, Hrid! I'm a monster! I'm the monster who destroyed your kingdom! And... And monster like should suffer for what they had done."

She was bawling now, heavy and ugly tears falling down her eyes, torn by pain and guilt. Trembling, Laegjarn tried to stop the flow of tears with her hands, without success.

"Bullshit."

He almost didn't recognised the sound of his own voice, heavy and laced with sadness and pain. He joined Laegjarn in her sobbing, letting his tears fall freely at the sight of his best friend breaking down before him. But his tears won't stop him to let her hear the truth.

"It's bullshit, and you know it."

"It's not! I was there when your sister died! I was leading the charge when your castle fell! I saw countless innocents died, waged countless wars! Caused so much pain! How could someone like me deserve happiness?! How can you love me?!"

"Because you are worth it."

His hand, trembling, hesitant, slowly reached her face and gently cupped her cheek, his thumbs began to wash the tears off her face, with kindness and warmth.

"Because you're my best friend, because I love you from the bottom of my heart. Because words cannot be enough to describe how lucky I am to have met you and how wonderful you are. How much you are dear to me. Because... Because you already suffered enough."

He put his forehead against her. She was burning, still shaking like a leaf in a tornado, their nose almost touched. She leaned against him, a little, just a little. Cherishing the contact.

"You... You don't mean that.... You cannot mean that."

"I am. I always will. Because, I did not fall in love with the you you were under your father."

He wrapped his arm around her, and she leaned into him, sobbing into his shoulders.

"I am in love with the Laegjarn you are today and the Laegjarn you will become. And if it takes me my life to convince you that you deserve to be happy, then so be it. Your happiness is my happiness, your joy is my joy, your pain is my pain... And... And you deserve to be smiling more than anyone on this world."

There was a long silence, one where the two of them hold each other tight, to get closer even when there was no space left.

"You are a fool for loving me."

"That I am."

"... Thank you."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

The two of them stood like this, embracing each other, without a care for anything in the world. Their tears began to dry, slowly. Laegjarn shivering stopped trembling when Hrid began to pass a soothing hand in her hair, gently kissing the top of her head. She snuggled against him, slowly calming herself even when her heart was crazy. It was comfortable, warm, safe. Something she never realised that she wanted, something to pull the piece back together. Someone. He would be here for her. He promised. He promised. He loved her. He loved her. This made her feel things that she had never felt before. An odd sense of comfort, of warmth, filled their bodies. He loved her. She loved him. He was there for her. She would be there for him. He wanted her happy even when she tried to be in pain. She would let him push the pain away. They felt tired, exhausted even, the adrenaline of the past moments rushing out of their minds, and they were so comfortable. He was so gentle and she was so yearning for his touch. Maybe... Maybe they should rest a little.

"Stay here with me tonight."

But not without each other. Not anymore.

Hrid nodded, and she pulled the cover before lying on the bed, she gently tapped the place next to her and chuckled a little when she saw the shade of pink that Hrid was now harboring. Not that she was not blushing herself, she absolutely was, but she didn't feel like she needed to hide it anymore. She felt like she didn't need to hide anything to him, or to herself. She was still scared, still hesitant, fumbling and not knowing what to do, but she knew what she wanted. She wanted him at her sides, she wanted him to stay here tonight. She wanted him to hold his promise and held her so tightly so every piece would be pulled together.

Laegjarn accepted Hrid for what he was. Her best friend, the one she loved, the one that could chase her past away. She looked in his eyes, seeing the dawn of brighter days in the care and love he had. Snuggling against him, shivering in delight when his cold arms wrapped around her, she smiled shyly. Happy. And her heart raced when he smiled back. They were so close, there was nothing except him, his kindness, his love, his warmth. His deep, caring, blue eyes, hiding behind some strand of snow colored hair, captivated her. He was the joy of the first snow, the promise that everything would be alright now. The one who washed the ashes on her face with her tears. His smile was the sound of sunny days and his lips were the color of truth. She wanted more of that, more of that kindness and truth, more of that feeling of safety, of that promise that everything would be fine.

Hrid knew that it was a promise that he would hold to his last breath, he knew that it was a promise that was bigger than him, and that was fine. her happiness was worth everything, her smile was worth everything. She was hot in his arm, hotter than the sun, warmer than the warmest bonfire in winter. Her red eyes were finally filled with peace, with a bubbling happiness that chased her sadness away and made his heart race. She was smiling, truly smiling, and all was good in the world. He pulled her closer, closer to his heart, closer to her happiness. She was so close, he felt her breath blending with his, he felt her hand slowly reach to his face, cradling him as he leaned against her palm and gently covering her palm in kisses, earning a soft giggle from her. He looked deep within her eyes, smiling, losing himself in their beauty. She closed her eyes and he closed his, their lips slowly nearing each other.

The two of them kissed, it was chaste, hesitant and stumbling. But packed with feeling and care, with promise, with love. It wasn't a well though kiss. The first kiss never is. But it was their promise, the proof that everything was true, and that everything would be fine. Even when the two of them didn't know where it would take them, but they didn't cared about the destination as long as they are together. The two of them was everything they needed now. They knew that. They accepted that. They loved that. Both of them were drowning in feelings they just began to understand, but it was alright. They had each other and their whole life to figure it out.

It was raining outside. And for the first time in their life, they never heard the rain fall so clearly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And... Curtains!
> 
> This is not the last chapter, there's still one epilogue left, but here it is! The end of my little story of mine with two of my favorite characters in Heroes. I would like to thank you again for following this, and know that it was a pleasure to write this for you!
> 
> I would also like to say that I've written most of this story with 'Woodkid' and 'Of Monster and Men' in the background, they're fantastic artists! Go listen to them... And...And... Go watch Carole & Tuesday!
> 
> I'll see next week for the epilogue, take care!


End file.
